


The Sullivan-Queen Diaries

by SymphonyWizard



Category: Arrow (TV 2012), Smallville, Smallville Season 11 (Comics)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Friendship, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-11
Updated: 2017-07-24
Packaged: 2018-10-02 15:25:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 38
Words: 91,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10221344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SymphonyWizard/pseuds/SymphonyWizard
Summary: A little bit of a Smallville next-gen, this details the teenage years of Jonathan Sullivan-Queen as he grows, finds friendship and romance, and as his world unravels.  As for the birthday month, I used the publication date of the final issue of "Continuity."Also this is NOT one of those stories where Chloe's son is in fact Clark's. He is Chloe and Oliver's all the way.As far as Arrowverse goes, Star City was never actually shown in Smallville so I am using Arrow's Star City. Younger versions of Felicity and Diggle are eventually introduced. Also a few characters from Arrow are mentioned or make a brief appearance.My "miscellaneous stuff centered around Chloe and Oliver's son" series ties into this story.





	1. Chapter 1

 

November 2026

 

            Dear ~~Journal~~ , no ~~Diary~~ …oh, whatever, no one’s going to read this so let’s just call you “Diary," okay?

 

            My name is Jonathan Sullivan-Queen.  My parents are named Oliver and Chloe.  I was born in 2012 and, well, today is my fourteenth birthday and you are the present I was least expecting.  I’m a blonde, but that doesn’t mean I’m stupid.  With the parents I have, stupidity would almost be a crime.  Everybody tells me that I have my dad’s build but I have my mother’s bearing.  Mostly I have her green eyes, her prominent chin, her smile as many people tell me, and some even tell me that I have her snarky attitude. 

            For each of my birthdays, my dad who has a silly love for archery and everything green has given me bows.  Until today, all of my bows have been toy bows and practice bows.  I told Dad months ago that when he buys me a real bow, that I specifically wanted a recurve bow.  My dad has this really high-tech compound bow, and while I think it’s cool, I don’t really like compound bows.  For me, it kind of takes the art out of it.  Mongols, Samurais, and even Robin Hood—who Dad likes to dress as when he goes on his “other” business trips—didn’t use stupid compound bows, so why should I?

            The bow I got today is really cool.  I don’t use this word too often because I’m a guy, but it’s beautiful.  Mom thought so too.  It’s yew, completely handmade and the draw weight fits me perfectly.  I’m already pretty strong, but as Dad always said, when it comes to bows, you don’t want to have a draw weight that is so heavy that you have to point to the sky just pull the stupid string. 

            Okay, besides the bow, I got a new suit and matching loafers to wear to this year’s Thanksgiving. 

Everybody in my “family” has a bit of a color obsession. For example, Dad is almost always wearing something green, my godfather Clark—he’s awesome by the way and I’ll get to his birthday present for me eventually—is always wearing red and blue.  Mom doesn’t seem to have much of a color obsession.  Feeling like I needed a color obsession, I started wearing purple.  Even my arrows are purple.  Until I was six or seven, my arrows were yellow and green, but as much as I love Dad, I wanted to have my own color.

I also got a lot of books.  My mom is a freelance journalist, occasionally writing for the Star City Register and the Daily Planet, and she has kind of put the interest of journalism and books into me.  Mostly classic literature, but the one that I started reading almost immediately was _The Three Musketeers_ by Alexander Dumas.  I love swashbuckler stories and actually, last year I finally convinced Mom to let me start fencing lessons.  Growing up, I was a big fan of Warrior Angel comics and Superman comics, but once I found out that my _godfather was Superman_ when I was ten, I just stopped reading comics.  Why read comic books about heroes when you have a family made up of heroes? 

Even my mother is a hero.  She calls herself Watchtower.  She has a lot of high-tech computers and sometimes I think she is the greatest hero of all time.  She’s the one telling the heroes where to go, what to do for crying out loud!  She and Superman are a really good team when it comes to superhero stuff and I love how annoyed Dad gets when he’s the one being told what to do.  Especially since he started the whole Justice League thing.

Mom and Clark are best friends and sometimes I see them together more often than I see her with Dad.  In fact, Mom told me once that when Clark found out that she was pregnant with me that he took her on a flight around Metropolis.  How awesome is that?

Clark got me a new turntable as my other one broke, but as much as I love it, that was not the present I was looking forward to.  Clark might not be a billionaire like my dad—and my mom—but he always gives me the best present.  Mom is only a billionaire through marriage, but given her much more modest upbringing, she doesn’t indulge herself as much as some might expect her to. Actually, she doesn’t even spoil me much.  Birthdays and Christmas always promise awesome gifts, but I never get everything I ask for in my wish lists. That kind of sucks sometimes. But there is one present I always get.

Every birthday since I was ten, when I found out he was Superman, Clark has taken me flying.  Forget about the family’s jet, flying with Clark is--what’s the word?—rapture.  I don’t know I came across the word while reading and that’s the best word for describing it.  This time, however, I asked Clark to do something crazy.  Mom and Dad might file a kryptonite-laced restraining order against Clark if they found this out, but I asked Clark to drop me.  Clark thought I was nuts, but I told him it would be just like skydiving—only he would be my parachute. 

He took me really high up and dropped me.  Oh, my God, the feeling!  I felt weightless, like I was really flying.  I wasn’t even the slightest bit afraid.  I had my arms outstretched like an eagle and I felt at peace…even as the ground came closer and closer.  I think I was about a few hundred feet away from the ground before Clark wrapped his arms around me and shot me back up.  Star City is a port city and since we didn’t want people accidentally seeing us, he took out to the water to do it.  Far from where anyone would see us.

And I thought that time when Mom, Dad, Clark, and Aunt Lois took me to Cedar Point in Ohio was a blast!  Oh, Aunt Lois.  About five years ago…yeah five years ago because I was nine when it happened, Clark and Aunt Lois broke off their engagement.  Mom was disappointed in Clark, but to tell the truth, I didn’t think they went well together.  Romantically, anyway.  After all, if they’ve have spent even longer than I’ve been alive trying to get married, but always finding a delay or another lame excuse, then maybe they don’t belong together.

Not long after that, Aunt Lois moved to Egypt.  There was some job waiting for her there that I can never remember the name of.  She emails often and her presents are always nice, even if they are late, but I miss her.

You are not a present I was expecting, and I can’t believe I’m writing this down, but I think I am going to find some really good use for you.  After all, next year I am starting high school. 


	2. Chapter Two

April 2027

 

Dear Diary,

 

It's eleven in the morning and I am just waking up.  I spent most of last night staring at the ceiling for hours and after awhile I gave up trying to sleep.  I went to the kitchen to sneak myself some peanut butter cream pie.  I'm glad I didn't inherit Dad's nut allergy.  I've seen him have a reaction a couple of weeks ago when he took Mom and I to a fancy restaurant for Easter Sunday and it was not pretty.  The weirdest thing is that the entree he ordered was not supposed to have nuts in it.  Later we found out that one of Star City's crime lords who Dad has pissed off more than once coerced a cook into adding the nuts.  The poor cook was fired and the sad thing about it was that his family was threatened with death by car bomb if he didn't do it.  One hazard of being in a family of superheroes is that someone is always trying to kill us.  And we were trying to have a nice, peaceful dinner.  Rude!

 

So I had eaten about a third of that pie by the time Mom came into the kitchen.  I thought she was going to reprimand me because the pie was meant for some business meeting/dinner that Dad is having later today.  No, instead she grabbed a spoon and helped me eat it as she asked me to explain what was going on.  I told her that I couldn't sleep and she comforted me.  She asked if I wanted something to help me sleep, but I told her "No thank you."  She then asked if I needed some time alone, but I didn't want to be alone.  Not after what happened a couple days ago.  

 

I was out on the town for a movie night with my best friend, Aimee.  Oh, Aimee.

 

She moved into town from Smallville back in February and our first encounter was...awkward to say the least.  I go to Star City public schools--something that other kids in Dad's social circles make fun of--and Aimee was the new girl.  Being one of--if not the--richest kids in school has earned me quite a bit popularity even if I am only in the eighth grade.  That's one of the earliest arguments I can remember between Mom and Dad.  Dad wanted to send me to Excelcior, his alma mater, but Mom didn't feel that boarding school would have a very healthy effect on me.  It was a long argument, but eventually Dad let Mom send me to public school, away from the other one-percenters.  

So when I met Aimee, I was just arriving at school in one of the Rolls Royces my family owns and I ran into her as I was walking up the steps to the school.  I accidentally spilled my half-finished grande white chocolate mocha frappaccino all over her coat.  

She put her hands on her hips and gave me the scariest scowl I had ever seen on a woman below voting age.  

"Sorry," was all I could say.  I'm not a prude like Clark who can't even tell when one of the women at the society galas that Mom drags him out to is hitting on him, but I'm not immune to shame and embarrassment.  

"You're sorry, rich boy?" sneered Aimee.  Despite her scowl, her hazel-brown eyes were very welcoming.  It's kind of hard to be afraid of someone when their eyes are that beautiful. 

"I could grovel at your feet like a slave to his mistress for your forgiveness, but I think you would get annoyed with that very quickly," I offered with a hopeful smile.  

Aimee gave me a hard look, but soon her features softened.  "I think I would too."  

"What's your name?" I asked, fishing out a handkerchief and offering it to her.

"Aimee," she replied, accepting the hanky and dabbing her coat clean as best she could.  "Yours?"

"Jonathan Sullivan-Queen," I answered with a smile.

Aimee gave me a quizzical look as she pushed a strand of dark hair out of her face.  "Uhh, no."

Now it was my turn to give her a quizzical look. It's the name on my birth certificate.

"There are way too many Jonathans; I'm gonna call you J.Q., is that okay?" 

I smiled again.  "I could get used to it."

"Good, now let's shut up and get out of the cold."  She whipped around and I walked side by side with her as we went into the building.

"I can take your coat to my family's dry cleaner if you'd like," I offered.

Aimee laughed, flashing her perfect teeth.  I wonder if she ever had braces.  Those were the worst six months of my life.  No popcorn, no gum, no hard candy (I actually don't eat much candy anymore) no nuts...so many no-nos.

"You really like to impress, don't you?" she had asked.

I shook my head.  "Not really, just with people that I call friends."

"Oh, so we're friends now?" she scoffed.

"Is that okay?"

She took a moment before she answered, looking thoughtful.  "Ask me again tomorrow, J.Q."

 

So, after that, we pretty much became inseparable.  There are days when it feels like we are the only ones who make each other smile.  Mom and Dad were proud that I had made a friend and I laugh every time I think of when Aimee first met them.  I guess the girl had never been to a billionaire's home before and she must have been really worried about making a good impression.  She wore a freshly ironed blouse and a black pencil-skirt suit dress and she came to my house and Mom was wearing a blouse and jeans, Dad was wearing a shirt with the sleeves rolled up and khakis, and I was wearing a V-neck T-shirt and jeans.  She felt so embarrassed over her unnecessary amount of effort, but I assured her that she's not stepping into the White House or Buckingham Palace.  Unless the occasion calls for it, or if I say so, she doesn't need to put so much effort in her appearance. 

About once a week we either hang out at each other's houses or go shopping or catch a movie and yesterday, our Friday night was cut short.  A crime lord that Dad and Clark had a quarrel with caught me and Aimee unawares and tried to shoot us down.  

Aimee, thankfully, was not hurt, but my chauffeur was killed and I was shot in the stomach.  Everything after that is a bit of a blur, but the last thing I remember before waking up in a hospital bed was pain.  It hurt to breathe.  I could barely feel my legs and I hyperventilated as my body tensed up as it tried to subdue the pain.  I remember Aimee saying, "Stay with me, J.Q.!"  

After I woke up, I was told I had died.  I.  Had.  Died.  I remember thinking,  _Why am I alive?_  People don't just die and come back to life!  I'm not Lazarus and I am definitely not a cat.  I've had a run-in with Selena Kyle once or twice and as pretty as she is, in Mom's words, she can be a bitch.  And a thief.  

Dad, of course, was overjoyed that I was alive.  It was the first time in the longest time that I saw tears in his eyes.  Aimee wasn't told that I had died and I was told not to tell her I had died, but she was glad that I was okay.  She wasn't losing her best friend that easily.  Clark got the news that I'd died and he blurred in and checked up on me.  But Mom, she  _was_ dead.  At least for seven hours.  I remember Clark telling me that a long time ago, before I was born, Mom could heal people empathetically.  It seemingly disappeared after some alien robot everyone calls Brainiac took up residence in her mind, but I guess it came back.  When I asked why she died, Clark told me since my injury already killed me, it temporarily killed her after she healed me.  It doesn't make much sense to me, but suddenly Mom is my hero more than ever.  

After she woke up, I let her embrace me and cover my cheeks in kisses.  I hadn't let her do that to me since I was twelve, but I was as happy to see her alive as she was to see me alive.  Dad...he was happy too, but last night I heard them arguing.  

"Okay, Chlo, you have to careful about this," he was saying.

"Ollie, why are you upset?" Mom had countered.  "Our son had died-- _DIED_!  I didn't know that my healing powers had come back, but they had and Jonathan is still with us because of it.  You should be proud."

"Of course, I'm proud!" Dad had shouted.  "But what if I had lost you?  What if I had lost you  _both_?  Chloe, remember how crazy I went when you faked your death and started working with the Suicide Squad?"  I heard of the Suicide Squad.  Basically a team of expendables exchanging loose excuses of heroics for freedom.

"Okay, I'm sorry that I saved our son," spat Mom.  Ouch, Mom!  "I'm sorry that I was so scared for our son that my powers made an unexpected, but well-timed comeback, is that what you want to hear?"  I was on the other side of the door, but I heard a sound that sounded suspiciously like a slap.  Did Dad just  _slap Mom_?  It took every bit of self-control for me not to burst in there and tell them to knock it off.  I'm alive, shouldn't they be proud?  Not screaming at each other?  It's not my fault that I was gunned down.  

They were silent for a long time, where I was texting back and forth with Aimee, welcoming her words of comfort as my parents fought. My parents never fight.  Not like this.  The last time they had so much as raised their voices about anything was Clark had brought me home late from spring break in Hawaii.  That was awesome trip.  I got nasty sunburns on my legs, but it was fun.  Finally Mom spoke.  "I'm going to bed."

That was my cue to run as fast as I could before my parents realized I was eavesdropping. The fact that they hadn't noticed at all is probably due to Dad teaching me how to be sneaky. To move without being seen or heard.

Why _is_ Dad upset?  Mom saved my life.  Personally, I feel like it should earn her a Mother-of-the-Year award.

Really the only problem I'm having right now is that every time I close my eyes, I see the gun pointed at me and blood all over my hands and stomach.  I learned just how vulnerable I can be.  After Mom and I finished that pie, I had told Mom, "I'm sorry you had to save my life."

Quite unexpectedly, Mom scowled. "Don't you ever say that again," she reprimanded.  Her features softened a little and she gripped my shoulders as she said, "You have nothing to apologize for, you understand me?  I love you and I will save your life as many times as I have to before I let you die."

Crying for the first time in forever it seemed, I hugged her fiercely. I then asked her if she could stay in my room until I go to sleep.  She had given me a watery smile.  I hadn't asked her to do that in long, long time.  

"I'll stay as long as you need me to, honey," she told me.

It was a little fitful, but I managed to sneak in some sleep.  I'm sitting up in my bed now and I smile at Mom's sleeping form.  I asked her to hold my hand and it must have slipped from my grasp somewhere in the early morning.  Now she's curled up on the floor.  She's gonna be a bit achy when she wakes up, but I gave her one of my pillows and draped a blanket over her.

My mom really is a superhero.  I just hope Dad lightens up and sees that.


	3. Chapter Three

July 2027

 

Dear Diary,

 

Last week was fun.  Fourth of July.  A day of patriotism, fireworks, parades, people throwing candy from their floats, and every patriotic song playing loudly over every loudspeaker in the streets of downtown.  This is one day where Dad and Clark set aside their usual color schemes.  It was actually my idea back when I was eight.  Dad loves his green leather, but he couldn't completely say "no" to me when I convinced him to put red, white, and blue arrows in his quiver for the weekend.  I even convinced Clark, who I didn't know was Superman at the time, to wear a red, white, and blue suit instead the usual red, blue, and yellow.  Mom was impressed with my arrangement.  Though, even today, I still have to fight back giggles as Dad and Clark seem uncomfortable with changing their color schemes.  Even if it's only for a week.

This year, we celebrated the Fourth in two places.  First, everyone gathered at Watchtower in Metropolis to watch the parade from just about every possible angle on the computer screens--and also to monitor the parade in case something bad happened.  Clark, being Metropolis's ultimate protector had an obligation to be a part of the parade, so at least for the first half of the day, it was just me, Mom, Dad, and Grandma Martha.  Sometimes I don't know why I call Martha Kent "Grandma," but considering that Dad's parents are dead, Mom's mom is catatonic and I've only seen Grandpa Gabe twice in my entire life, she has been more of a grandmother to me than anyone.  She calls me "Johnny."  I wanted to invite Aimee over, but Watchtower, even if it is a bit of a second home for my family, is like a superhero office and we have to be careful about who we let into it.  Hell, we even clean it ourselves.  I don't mind doing chores once in a while.

As the parade progressed, thankfully there was no interruption from any villain or supervillain.  Maybe criminals have some dignity after all, knowing better than to interrupt an Independence Day celebration. 

The second place we celebrated the Fourth in was the Kent Farm.  There, I was allowed to invite Aimee.  I think it made her really happy too because she grew up in Smallville.  In fact, she knew Clark and Grandma Martha very well.  I like going to the Kent Farm.  Clark bought it back about five years ago and it's running better than ever.  Mostly thanks to a few endorsements Mom convinced him to accept.  I like spending time in the loft.  I think Clark gets a little upset sometimes that I have made the loft in his barn as much my own as it is his.  A few of my favorite books are in there and I set up a few targets that I use for throwing knives and arrows all around the barn.  Not very challenging in terms of distance, but given the number of obstacles, it definitely makes for a good challenge.  

As the sun began to set, I had helped Clark and Dad set up a chain of fireworks to set off.  Some of them were actually firework bombs that we shoot into the air like skeet and Mom, Dad, and I shoot them with our arrows.  Clark would have participated using his heat vision, but Aimee is here and well as far is she is concerned, Clark is just a really tall bespectacled, mild-mannered reporter for the Daily Planet and my family has big interest in archery.  I do worry as she is really smart and has proven a few times to be able to put two and two together, but sometime I hope that I can disclose my family secrets with her.  

In that sense, I understand what Clark went through when he and Mom were growing up and, as close as they were, there was that wall between them that was his secret of being everything that makes him Superman and awesome.  Aimee knows that I am really good at archery, martial arts--particularly bojustu, and has seen me on my family's property practicing with a katana, but it's not like I can tell her, "Hey, my dad is the Green Arrow and my mom is Watchtower, the all-seeing eye that is the backbone of the Justice League."  Mom was truly touched when she heard me call her that.  Maybe someday.

So after the sun went down, we gathered in front of the barn with the Queens with their bows and we started setting off the fireworks.  Very, very loud.  I hope we didn't upset any of the neighbors.  Firework bomb after firework bomb, I shot them, releasing colorful explosions.  After it was all over, we argued over who shot down the most firework bombs as we roasted hamburgers over the grill.  Finally, we asked Clark, Grandma Martha, and Aimee who shot down the most.  They looked at each other awkwardly, as if they were trying to decide if their answer would get them hurt.  Mom is probably is most dangerous of the family.  Finally, Aimee said me.  Before I could stop myself, I pumped my fist in the air and screamed "Yes!"  Then I saw Mom and Dad's looks.  I couldn't decide if they were jealous, annoyed, proud, or were just simply being babies about losing to their son.  Maybe a little bit of each?  Again, before I could stop myself, I gripped their shoulders and told them,

"Oh, Mom, Dad, you two are still awesome archers," I promised them.  They shared a smile and then I added, "You two are just growing old and I'm better."  Oops, I should not have said that.  Aimee and Clark laughed their heads off, but Mom and Dad were livid.  I thought then that I should just take the family jet, fly somewhere, fake my death, and never return.  Were they going to ground me?  Murder me?  Reprimand me?  Shred my platinum card that I don't even use much anyway?  

Finally, it was Mom who spoke.  She walked in front of my and, though I am taller than her now, she knows how to make me feel smaller.  She pulled me down by my shirt collar and whispered in my ear, "You're better than your dad, yes, but don't you ever tell me that you are better than me.  And forty is not old."  She released me and offered me a hamburger.  To tell the truth, Mom does not look forty at all.  Maybe it's a result of her healing power or whatnot, but she still looks as if she is in her late twenties.  I wonder if that is one of the reasons why she and Dad have been a little short with each other lately.  

Now that Mom's healing power has miraculously returned, she has put it to good use.  Similar to what she did for him when he was developing some of his powers, like his super-breath, Clark helped Mom hone her healing powers.  Now they didn't deliberately go about injuring people just so that she could practice her skill, but some weeks back, Dad received harsh wounds from helping Batman deal with Bane.  Bane is a really scary guy.  Not because he wears the silly mask, but because he is very intelligent on top of his incredible strength.  He planted a virus in Mom's Watchtower computers for crying out loud and that took days to fix.  I helped with that a bit.  I'm not at Mom's skill level yet, but I'm becoming a decent hacker myself.  

Anyway, Dad was rushed home after his hand and arm were broken in--I think it was eight places or some crazy number like that?--and at first we were worried that he'd never be able to use a bow again, but after shutting Dad up with a sedative, with some words of encouragement and confidence from Clark, Mom managed to heal Dad.  Her arm was sore for several hours, but Dad was as good as new.  He did jump down her throat the way he did when Mom brought me back to life, but I think Dad is still somewhat apprehensive of Mom's powers.  

Just the other day, I was talking to Clark about it and he assured me that Dad just worries about Mom.  But why, I thought.  It saves us from having to invent reasons for our injuries whenever we actually do have to visit a hospital.

Today was rather interesting.  I met Lex Luthor for the first time.  When Mom and Dad told me that he would be visiting us, I remember thinking, what's the former President of the United States doing in our house?  His impeachment made the Watergate scandal look admirable.  Right now Mom and Clark's friend, Pete Ross is into his second term as President and his approval rating is still pretty high.  I did get to meet him on a few occasions.  One of which was at the White House.  Talk about overwhelming.  That was the first time in my life that I fully took all mannerisms I learned growing up seriously.  President Ross is an easygoing guy behind closed doors, but still meeting the President?  At least until I actually met him, I felt like I couldn't blink or even offer my arm as Mom wrapped her hand around it without feeling like I was doing it disrespectfully.  Mom wore a very beautiful gown that day.  Green satiny dress with a lighter green silk shawl wrapped around her elbows.  Once I met him, I almost instantly felt more comfortable.

Lex Luthor was a very different story.  After what happened between him, Clark, Bruce Wayne, and Dad, I really, really don't like him.  I was nervous about meeting President Ross, but the days leading up to meeting Lex Luthor, I was very apprehensive.  I don't like people who go out of their way to mess up the lives of the people I care about, particularly Mom, Dad, Clark, and Aunt Lois.  

After his dramatic impeachment, Lex Luthor eventually came out of the shadows seemingly a changed man.  He rebuilt his fortune creating a network of hospitals for underprivileged--and when I say "underprivileged" I'm not talking about people who don't drive Cadillacs and Mercedes-Benzes, or whatever, I'm talking about people who can't even afford band-aids--children with severe ailments.  Yes, very noble and he quickly regained favor with much of the general public.  I asked Dad why he was coming by, and he told me that it was about a business deal regarding the Luthor Hospital Foundation.  I still wasn't excited.  Mom and Clark told me that under the table, Lex was making deals with the hero-phobics and meteorophobics.  I think I actually coined that term since before I mentioned it when I was nine I think, I never heard anyone use it.  Nowadays, it is the term that everyone my family is associated with when referring to people who make a cruel stance against meteor-infected individuals.

Mom has nurtured quite a few of them.  Between connections in Smallville, Metropolis, and Star City there is an ongoing network of young hero teams and they are all managed by Mom.  She doesn't always command them directly unless an event calls for it, but she is like the CEO of heroes so to speak.  In fact, there is a med student at Star City general hospital who can "see" cancer cells.  Utilizing his abilities, with the help of Wayne Enterprises and Queen Industries, medicine is reaching a breakthrough in cancer research.  That med student is going to very rich.

So my encounter with Lex Luthor was not memorable.  I was playing the piano in one of the sun rooms when he came in.  In a display of his incredible intelligence, he recognized the piece I was playing for memory as one of Ludovico Einaudi's pieces.  He asked if I knew any classical composers.  Well I was trained in the arts of Rachmaninoff, Beethoven, Bach, and Tchaikovsky, but as much as I hold the utmost respect for those men, I prefer a few contemporary composers such as Einaudi and even Yiruma.  

"Both of them have very good pieces," said Lex.  "However, I worry that you are wasting true potential as a pianist by ignoring the classics."   _Wasting true potential?_ I screamed in my head.  Who was he to walk into someone's house and blatantly belittle their talents.

Unbeknownst to him, Mom heard that exchange and she looked ready to breathe fire.  

Before she could speak or stop me, however, I told him, "Well I could tell you that you are wasting true potential in your looks by not investing in a decent toupee."

I swept out of the room, ignoring a very-shocked Mom as I headed up to my room.  Given the occasion, I wasn't allowed to invite Aimee over to hang out today, but I really could have used her support.  I did find a loophole though.  Mom and Dad didn't say I could talk to her over the internet.  I called her on my laptop and I almost instantly relaxed when I saw her face.  I must have interrupted one of her reading sessions as she was wearing her half-rim reading glasses. Aimee is even more addicted to books than I am and she can get very upset if her reading times are interrupted.  But she is aware of my family's visit with Lex Luthor today so she told me that I could call her at any time.  Actually, she usually makes an exception for me interrupting her.

"What's up, J.Q.?" she greeted with a smile, though as beautiful as that smile is, it quickly disappeared when she saw my look.  "Everything okay?"

"No hello, just a blatant insult to my piano-playing abilities," I grumbled.  

"Dick," she swore.  I knew she wasn't talking about me.  "J.Q., you know you're really good at the piano--actually to put it accurately, you're  _great_ at the piano!"  I allow myself a smile at her compliment.  "Lex Luthor screwed my family up pretty bad before I was born.  When my family still lived in Smallville, for a long time we were very stable in the farming business, always made a decent profit off of our harvests.  But I guess a business deal between my dad and Lex Luthor went south and we lost much of the property to the LuthorCorp plant.  It's one of the reasons why we relocated to Star City."

"Dick," I agreed.  We laughed.  "The sooner this evening is over the better."

Aimee winked at me.  "Hang in there, J.Q.; if anybody can come out of an encounter with Lex Luthor unscathed, it's you."  

I beamed at her.  "I guess I better go down and join everybody for dinner."

My best friend whined playfully.  "Oh, alright, well I'll talk to you later, buddy."

"Talk to you later," I agreed.  And the screen went out.  I looked in the mirror inside my bedroom door and straightened myself out a little.  Mom and Dad will probably prefer that I wear a tie to dinner so I grabbed my favorite purple polka-dot tie and fastened it as I made my way to the dining room.  It was not the liveliest dinner I've had.  Most of the talking was done between Dad and Mr. Luthor as I was asked to address him.  I'm not sure if he deserves that kind of formality.  I only opened my mouth when  _Mr. Luthor_ spoke to me.

He asked who I studied the piano under.  Despite my family's wealth where I could probably have studied under one of the most prestigious instructors on this side of the Mississippi, I studied under a public instructor downtown.  She offered me a few helpful lessons, but after I had the basics down, I mostly began teaching myself.  I could not tell if he seemed impressed or mocking, and neither could Mom or Dad for that matter who looked ready to throw man out of the house if he insulted me.  He also asked where I was going to school.  I answered telling him that I was starting Star City High this year.  

"I would have thought your father had sent you to Excelsior," said Lex, sounding more like he was speaking his thoughts than like he was speaking to anyone.

"We felt that sending him to public school would have a better effect on him," explained Mom, a bit defensively.  

Lex regarded her thoughtfully.  "Perhaps it was for the better."  It almost sounded like he was insulting Mom to a point.  On more than one occasion, I have gotten into a scuffle with other rich boys for making fun of my mother.  Calling her "new money", "treasure hunter", "whore".  How does marrying a billionaire make you a whore?  Mom and Dad never talk about their wedding, and nor do they have any photos from their wedding for reasons no one ever seems to want to disclose, but if Mom had married Dad for his money, it would much more obvious.  She doesn't wear ridiculous clothes and she doesn't go on crazy shopping sprees making her look like an ostentatious representation of just how hyper-privileged she is.  

Before I could stop myself, I slammed my fists down on the table and stood up so fast, that my chair flew backward.  In the coldest voice I could muster, I told Lex to leave.  Mom and Dad were too shocked to reprimand me.  They did about an hour ago, but at the time I was too angry to care.  Lex left but not before telling my parents that I am definitely their son.  After he disappeared out the door, Mom made it very clear to me just how much I embarrassed them and she sent me to my room.  Dad stopped by and while he did lecture me for my outburst, he also thanked me for standing up for Mom.  

Nobody insults a Queen.  Especially when Mrs. and Chloe are attached to it.  

Clark breezed in a little while ago and I talked about my evening with him.  When I told him what I told Lex about investing in a good toupee, he laughed.  I asked why and he told me that a long time ago Mom said something very similar.  I really am a Sullivan as much as I am a Queen he told me.  As a reward for my insulting Lex, Clark got me my favorite ice cream.  I usually prefer bowls over cones, but Mom would take away Clark's visiting privileges if she knew he was sneaking me ice cream and other treats whenever I was in trouble for something he felt I was unfairly judged for.  Maybe she does know, but doesn't do anything about it because she is proud of my relationship with my godfather.  Dad definitely doesn't know.  He's very perceptive, but some things do escape his notice.  Last Easter it took him longer than any of us to find his Easter basket.  Poor, poor Robin Hood wannabe.

I might have embarrassed Mom and Dad this evening, but it ended on a good note.  I can always count on Clark to get a smile out of me.  Sometimes even more than Dad.  

Tomorrow Aimee is taking me hiking.  She says she has a special place she wants to show me.  I could use some time away from urbanization. 

 


	4. Chapter Four

July 2027

 

Dear Diary,

 

It is almost the end of the month and let me start off with a very important life lesson:   _Never_ be on the receiving end of a Smallvillian farm girl's fist.  It will hurt like hell and leave with a vicious black eye similar to the one I have right now.

 

It was really quite innocent.  Aimee and I were out on a countryside lake to make use for the ninety-seven-degree weather and a couple of the boys from Dad's social circle were there as well.  I would have preferred the small cave pool that always had a decent waterfall gushing into it that she showed me on one of our hikes, but she felt that it was too hot and humid to make the hike.  She was probably right.  So, Aimee and I were minding our own business, applying sunscreen before we jumped into the cold water and then comes Nigel Payson and his...minions.  I hate that guy.  His dad owns half the oil companies in the state and contrary to his father's affable attitude, Nigel, like his mother who always looks at Mom like she is a dangerous insect, is a snobbish brat.  In fact, I have witnessed him force kids he deemed inferior to him to kiss his feet.  I want to put one of my purple arrows in him.  Politely, of course; I don't want Mom to admonish me for forgetting my manners.

So, I greeted him with all the friendliness I could muster and he had asked,

"So the Queen Bee has finally found himself a hillbilly concubine," drawled Nigel.  His buddies found it funny and, to my embarrassment and anger, a few people around us who heard thought it was funny as well.  Where's my bow when I need it?  Where's bojutsu staff?  Both are not exactly appropriate items for a public setting.  Aimee told me that this lake is nothing like Crater Lake which she promises to take me to sometime, but it is nice.

"Concubine, huh?" repeated Aimee.  Okay, so this was her quarrel; I know her well enough to know that this was not one of those times for me to interfere.  And Nigel  Payson was about to find out that he picked the wrong farm girl to mess with.  "And what does that make you?" she continued.  "A spoiled brat who probably doesn't even know how to do his own laundry?"  She said it loud enough for quite a few people to hear and in my head, I was screaming "Hallelujah!" at the look of embarrassment on Nigel's face.  Even I know how to do my own laundry.  

"Poor, poor oily, helpless boy," drawled Aimee.  "Probably never even done a hard day's work in your life."  She gave his bare arms a thoughtful look.  "Makes sense too; how can you ever do a hard day's work when your biceps are that saggy."  I think my eyes became so large that they were ready to burst out of my skull.  There I was with my best friend having the time of my life as she humiliated the son of one of the most respected philanthropists in the state.  

Nigel must have felt the need to prove his strength because soon he tried to take a swing at Aimee.  Big mistake.  She easily avoided the punch and punched him so hard that I think she broke his jaw.  His minions tried to bring her down, but I watched in awe as she reduced them to little babies rocking back and forth in pain.  She looked at me as she smoothed her dark hair that glistened under the harsh sun and asked, "Seriously, J.Q., does anybody outside the Midwest know that they shouldn't hit girls?"  I was too stunned to offer a response.  She threw her head back and laughed that infectious laugh of hers and half-dragged me out to the water.  I think my arms and legs turned to jelly by the time we were ready to get out of the water.

On our way home, I was finally able to compliment her fighting skills.  "You definitely know how to hold your own against a bunch of rich boys."

Aimee scoffed.  "Please, it was pitiful.  Compared to the guys I grew up with, they were an embarrassment."  I only go to Smallville maybe three or four times a year at the most and I have seen some of those farm boys.  Visibly, a few of them looked as strong as Clark, but of course nobody is as strong as him, accept maybe Conner Kent and Diana Prince, aka Wonder Woman.  "Fighting those morons was exercise." 

Impulsively I had asked, "How hard can you punch?"

Aimee blinked at me.  "Um, pretty hard, I guess?"  

"Punch me," I said brightly.  

She blinked at me.  "I'm sorry?"

"I want you to punch to me," I repeated slowly.  

She stared at me for several minutes before she let out a scoff.  "I'm not going to punch you."

"Why not?"

The look she gave me suggested that I should already know the answer to that question.  "Well, for one, you're my best friend and two, I only punch people who piss me off."

Okay, those were two things to consider.  However, at the time, I was foolishly curious.  "Satisfy my curiosity?" 

Silence fell between us as we bore into each other's eyes and the only sound was that of traffic and the hum of the car's engine.  Come to think of it, was I at all concerned what my chauffeur, Brian, would think when he saw what was about to happen?  Probably not.  And God, why did Aimee have to have those beautiful eyes?  So far, puberty has been kind to her.  

Finally, she shrugged.  "You asked for it, Queen."  She swung at me so hard that it took several minutes for my mind to swim back into focus.  When it did, Aimee was cradling my head and apologizing profusely.  Her fist felt like a freight train had slammed into my face.  I was acutely aware that my head was in her lap.  When I opened my good eye, she was gazing down at me.  

"You know, given that you are my best friend, that was not the hardest I could punch," she assured me.  Given what I witnessed at the lake, I was inclined to believe her. 

I had tried to convince Brian that nothing was wrong, but he didn't seem to believe me.  He rushed Aimee home first, practically tossing her on the side of the street--I still want to slap his wrist for that--before rushing me home.  The way he dragged me into the house with my arm around his shoulder, I might as well have broken my leg instead of being punched really hard.  He dragged me into the study where Dad was going over some business transactions and Mom was researching something for an article she was asked to write for the Star City Register.  When they saw me with my free hand pressed against my eye, they stopped what they were doing and steered me towards my favorite armchair.  After ushering Brian to get an ice pack from the kitchen, they knelt down on either side of me.

"Honey, what happened to you?" demanded Mom, tentatively inspecting my eye that I'm sure was already beginning to bruise.

I blushed so hard as I confessed, "Aimee punched me."

"What?  Why?" asked Mom and Dad in unison.

"I thought you two were getting along really well?" Dad reminded me.  

"We are," I assured them quickly.  I think I would have been in worse pain and in more sensitive places if we had a dramatic falling-out.  

"Then what happened?" pressed Dad.  I remember thinking that I better come up with an answer before the Green Arrow paid an unfriendly visit to my best friend.  Or worse, a visit from Watchtower.

As meekly as I could, I said, "I  _asked_ her to punch me."  Silence fell and Brian's footsteps as he rushed into the room with the ice pack sounded like thunder.

"Thanks, Brian," said Mom as she took the ice pack and gently pressed it to my face.  "Why the hell would you  _ask her to punch you_?"

I told them about my afternoon.  Nice time at the lake with my best friend to her beating up Nigel Payson and his minions.  I watched as Mom and Dad shared a smile.  They know how much Nigel and his mother are brats.  "And then my journalistic curiosity got the better of me and I wanted to know what it was like to be punched by a farm girl," I finished with what I am sure was a stupid smile.  Mom and Dad gave me the "stare".  That stare that shows so the gears working in their heads.  The stare that leaves me wondering if they are angry, amused, disappointed, baffled, or just studying me like I am an alien instead of the blonde they called their son.

Finally, it was Dad who spoke.  "Oh, Chloe."

Mom stared at him, clearly as confused as I was.  "You see what you've done to our child?" demanded Dad, gesturing to my face.  "Is  _this_ what I get for marrying an intrepid reporter?"

I heard the teasing note in his voice and I couldn't stifle my giggles, but stopped immediately when I saw Mom's look.

"What _I_ did?" she repeated.  "What about what  _you've_ done?"

It was Dad's turn to stare blankly.  "Our son should have known better than to ask a farm girl  _from_ _Smallville_ to punch him!  But you didn't grow up in Smallville," Mom reached over and placed her hands on Dad's shoulders, "so I forgive your stupidity."

Dad's jaw fell open in a big  _O_ and, despite my pain, I sat back and enjoyed myself as their insults escalated into an argument.  I wasn't worried.  In fact, I was happy.  I love watching them tease each other and lately their teasing sessions have been growing more and more sporadic.  I think they need a vacation.  Away from the company.  Away from journalism whenever Mom gets a call, which, given her reputation, is quite frequent.  Away from Green Arrow and Watchtower.  And they better bring me along for it.  Or maybe not, in case they end up...playing.  Just thinking about it is almost enough to scar me for life.  

On and on, their argument went.  I began to wonder when they would start roughhousing like a bunch of idiotic children on the playground.  So caught up were they, that they didn't notice when Clark stepped into the study.  I forgot that he was coming over today for dinner.  Given everyone's busy lives, Clark isn't always able to come over the same day, but he is very good about coming over for dinner once a week.  And we, in return, visit him for dinner whenever we are in Metropolis or Smallville.  Actually, I think I overheard him talking about taking up residence at Watchtower.  He still owns the farmhouse, but given his busy life as the Man of Steel and being recently promoted at the Daily Planet and having his office just a few floors down from the penthouse offices, he doesn't get to live at home very much.  He could use a vacation too.

So he stepped into the study and he was about to say something, but I shushed him.  He wordlessly asked me what was going on as he walked over and squeezed my shoulder in greeting.  I muttered quietly, too quietly for a person without superhearing to hear, that they were arguing whose genetics caused me to be stupid enough to ask my best friend, a Smallville farm girl, to punch me.  Clark laughed inaudibly and whispered back,

"Yeah, that wasn't a smart move."  Teasingly he added, "It's your Mom's fault; she's the intrepid journalist."

I couldn't hold my laughs back anymore.  And when Mom and Dad finally noticed Clark's presence, much to their shared embarrassment and horror, I laughed even harder.  "I love my family!" I shouted joyously.  Though, I winced right after.  

"Well, we do try to be awesome," agreed Dad.  "Who's up for Diggle's pizza and a movie?"

My eyes widened with joy and hunger.  "Count me in."  Diggle's pizza is the best pizza in the city.

I didn't feel like I needed it, but Dad and Clark helped me out of the study.  I knew how to walk, damn it.  

It turned into a good evening.  We order a few pizzas and gave the delivery guy a generous tip.  We watched one of the Avengers films.  God, why does my family enjoy watching superhero movies?  Well, there was that film adaptation of Warrior Angel that Mom and Clark had a chance to visit the set of, but that movie was horrendous.  Even those who never read the comics were appalled.  And it was panned by critics.  The Avengers aren't real, but at least those movies are good.  Most of them anyway.  I hope they don't try to reboot the franchise someday.  And I am more of a Harry Potter guy, but it's hard to watch a Harry Potter movie without Clark scoffing at the idea of people flying with broomsticks.  I even suggested once that he try flying with one just to vex him.  Mom and Dad agreed with me.  Even Victor and Dinah agreed.  Oh, getting Superman flustered is a joy in and of itself.  But we love him.

Before we all went to bed, Mom told me, "Now you know, never get yourself punched by a girl from Smallville.  Understand?"

"Yes, Mom," I replied waving the fresh ice pack.  

She laughed.  "Goodnight you little sucker," and she left my room.  

Yeah, never be on the receiving end of a Smallville farm girl's fist.  Especially when that fist belongs to Aimee Marek.


	5. Chapter Five

August 2027

 

Dear Diary, 

 

Today was the first day of high school.  Recently I ventured to ask Mom, Dad, Clark, and Aunt Lois about their high school years.  I'm still waiting for Aunt Lois' email, but I did get some stories out of everyone else.  

Dad didn't seem too excited about sharing his high school stories.  He didn't go into much detail, but from what I was able to get out of him, I could hardly believe my ears.  He was bully in high school!  Well, given the man that Lex Luthor became, I don't blame the animosity that was between them.  Although, I do wonder if he would have become a better man if he had a nicer upbringing.  From an abusive father to being tormented by my dad, he didn't exactly turn into a decent person.  Dad definitely turned into a better person.  Maybe between being a Tom Hanks-esque castaway for two years to his relationships with both Mom and Aunt Lois...he had plenty of well-deserved interventions.  Having a Sullivan and a Lane in your life can definitely make the world a little brighter.  Is it pretentious for me to say that?  I am a Sullivan after all.

Mom and Clark's stories were more entertaining.  From everything they have told me, their high school years sound like a Sherlock Holmes, or a Nancy Drew story.  They seem to have spent almost as much time cracking cases and subduing meteor freaks as they did doing their homework.  Mom practically lived in Smallville High's Torch office.  Actually one time when Aimee came over for dinner and video games, Mom asked her how the Torch is faring these days.

"You're a bit of a legend in the halls of Smallville High," Aimee had told her.  Mom couldn't hide her smug smile and Dad and I gave her a proud nudge.  "The Torch isn't as exciting as when you were the editor, but every so often, according to my mom who taught there until we moved, they put out a few riveting articles once in a while.  In fact, my mom told me that starting about five years ago, students vote for not only what article by the current editor and reporters is the article of the month, but also which one of your old articles is the article of the month."  Mom's eyes glistened, looking truly touched by that fact.  

"Sounds like you need to go back to high school, Chlo," said Dad.  "I never knew my wife was worshiped."

"Maybe I do," agreed Mom.  "And maybe I am a goddess."

"What's the matter, Mom?" I snarked.  "I don't know where Neverland is, but it's not in Smallville.  You're little old to be writing for a  _high school_ newspaper.  Also, I'm not too sure if you're a goddess.  You alternate between being ridiculously awesome and not-as-awesome way too much."  I finished with that bright smile that everyone tells me looks exactly like hers.  She glared at me.  Aimee laughed.  Dad laughed too; he obviously knew I was just teasing Mom.  Dad laughed then, but his scowl is memorable when it's him that we pick on.

One day, Clark teased that sometimes he found himself wondering if he would be able to go a whole week without having to save Mom's life.  Good heavens, was Mom really that much of a troublemaker?  Clark thought so and that only infuriated Mom further, much to everyone's amusement.  

What surprised me most--and disappointed me the most--is that there were prolonged periods of time where Mom and Clark weren't getting along.  Well, part of it was because of Clark being understandably hesitant to share that he was an  _intergalactic traveler_ as he prefers, but also a lot of other stupid reasons.  Also Mom was a bit jealous of Lana Lang.  I never met Lana, but based on what most people have told me, she is a bit of a whiny person.  And she had a rather disgusting relationship with Lex Luthor.  The dick made her believe she was pregnant!  Being desperate for companionship is one thing, but that is a whole different level of disgusting.  

Anyway, it just surprises me whenever I hear stories of Mom and Clark not getting along.  They are so good to each other.  How can those two not get along?  I've never even seen them have a screaming match.  I would know if they have had a screaming match.  Mom has this air about her after a screaming match.  Shoulders slumped, eyes red and when she offers me a motherly smile, it looks as if without that forced smile she will fall apart like a house of cards.  I have never seen that after an encounter with Clark.  I've seen them argue, but at the end of the day they are unbreakable.  Maybe she argues with Dad more because they are married and married couples argue.  I hope I can form a relationship as strong as Mom and Clark's with Aimee.

Speaking of friends, today at school Aimee and I made two new friends.  Felicity Smoak and John Diggle.

Felicity Smoak is quite possibly the definition of "spaz."  

Following in my mother's footsteps, I signed up for the school newspaper and that is where I met Felicity.  During free period, Aimee, who insisted on keeping me company in the Star City High Times, and I made our way to the office.  My first thought when I stepped into that room was that it could really use some work.  A round table situated in the middle of the room with a few computers that look about ten years old, a few file cabinets that might come in use even though most stuff at school with the exception of books are all digital.  Even our homework, according to our teachers is going to be all online.  Even if my textbooks are all digital copies, I'm still hauling books that are at least four hundred pages long.  I don't think paper books are going to completely disappear.  At least for a while.  And the walls of the room looked as if they have had clippings on them in the past.  It would probably make Mom proud to know that Star City High had its own Chloe Sullivan once upon a time.  

Felicity came in a few steps behind us and if my first meeting with Aimee was awkward, this meeting was just plain depressing.  News of my presence seems to be spreading throughout the school quite fast and I am already becoming very popular.  Why?  I'm just an ordinary guy whose parents moonlight as superheroes.  Nobody knows that part.  To them, I am Jonathan Sullivan-Queen, the son of Oliver and Chloe Queen--billionaire CEO of Queen Industries and highly respected freelance journalist, respectively.  It seems girls need to be reminded that I'm a person.  They don't need to get all tongue-tied and smile awkwardly while they play with their hair when they see me.  Poor Felicity was one of them.

Aimee and I were brainstorming how we were going to fill the place and Felicity came in and she made us jump as she squealed.  And I felt something hot spill on the back of my shirt.  I didn't freak out as much as I wanted to, but I did remove the shirt as fast as I could before the spilled coffee sank through and burned my back.  I was wearing an undershirt, but poor Felicity looked like she had just murdered someone.  Aimee gave her that look that I have seen her give on numerous occasions when she is assessing someone--arms crossed, chin slightly upturned, eyebrow slightly raised and if her assessment turns disapproving, she will bite her lip or chew on the inside of her cheek.  I do that sometimes when I am nervous.  If she does nothing, then it is quite possible she is trying to very hard to not show that you have gotten on her good side.  

"Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God, I-I'm so sorry, Jonathan-Queen-Mr. Queen..."  Mr. Queen?  Way to make me feel like an old man.  I felt so bad for the blonde.  Part of me was entertained by her awkwardness, and I think Aimee shared my amusement, but I just had to stop her before she hurt herself. 

"Relax," I told her reassuringly, while also trying to suppress my amusement.  "And please don't ever call me 'Mr. Queen.'  Just call me Jon."  I might have invited her to call me J.Q., but that is the name Aimee gave me and she is the only one I allow to call me that.  

"Right, Jon," said Felicity, straightening her glasses.  If she were to lose the somewhat high ponytail, she could lose some of that stereotypical nerd look.  

"So, what's your name?" asked Aimee, in that somewhat authoritative tone that she tends to use with people she isn't acquainted with.

"Felicity Smoak," replied Felicity.  

I quietly shook my head at Aimee.  Quit intimidating the poor girl, will you? 

"And are you working in here too?" I asked, attempting to make conversation.

"Um, yeah, I'm really good with computers and I couldn't find any IT programs and..." what was it going to take for this girl to be comfortable around me?

I held up my hand to stop her spiel.  "I'm sure you will find use for your computer talents in this place," I assured her.  Now that I am writing this down, I wonder if it wouldn't be a bad idea to consider having her mentored by Mom.  Maybe it's time Watchtower has her own sidekick.  But then I wouldn't get to be her sidekick.  Arrows, swords, my bo staff, and computer keyboards are my weapons of choice.  Actually, to practice my hacking skills, Mom had me hack into the downtown traffic system.  A bit scary, as I didn't want to cause any accidents, but it turns out that that was exactly what I was trying to prevent.  I did all the computer stuff, but Mom talked me through manipulating the traffic lights so that Dad and Batman who was in town at the time could get through the city without anyone getting hurt.  As nervous as I was, with Mom's gentle encouragement, I succeeded without causing any fender-benders.  

It took a few minutes, but Felicity calmed down a little and I assured her that she didn't have to worry about my coffee-stained silk shirt.  I can take care of that.  By the end of the period, the three of us had a pretty solid idea of how we were going to set the place up.  We established which computers were going to be ours and the table was big enough that we could decorated our spaces with our own little knickknacks.  And as fate would have it, my computer was the purple one.  I swear the color follows me the same as green follows Dad and primary colors follow Clark.  I don't picture myself patterning my superhero outfit after Dad's but I get the feeling that it is going to be purple.  But it's not going to be anything like Hawkeye's outfit.  Purple and blue have been my colors long before I discovered the Avengers and Hawkeye's somewhat stupid-looking outfit in the comics.  Maybe the fact that it's so stupid is the reason why the Avengers aren't real.  

We had a few more class periods and coincidentally, Felicity has all the same classes that Aimee and I have.  In one of those classes, we ran into John Diggle.  That encounter was less awkward.  He was already friends with Felicity and she introduced us to him.  I recognized the big guy immediately.  Son of the man who owns my family's favorite pizza place.  I wonder if being friends with this guys will promise us a discount on our pizzas.  Probably not.  

"Queen, huh?" said Dig, as I think I am going call him, after Felicity introduced us.  I didn't like the way he looked at me, but it was a look I am used to.  He gave me that look that people give me when they assume that I am just a snob partying my life away with my parents' money.  I'm not like that.  I even do volunteer work at the State Fair during the summer.  I've even offered to do farm work at the Kent Farm a few times.  Farm labor is hard, but I don't mind getting my hands dirty.  

I gave him my friendliest smile without looking like I was desperate for his approval.  Although, after school, I invited everyone to Aimee and I's favorite coffee shop.  It's not the Talon in Smallville, which was destroyed a long time ago, according to Mom, but it does have really good coffee.  Dig might have thought that my offering to pay for everyone's coffee was a plea for approval.  Maybe it was, but if anything I just want to show him that I can be good-natured.  

It was the only first day of school and thankfully none of my teachers gave us homework, but I get the feeling the pains of high school are soon going to come crashing down on me.  Smallville had meteor-enhanced individuals, or MEIs I like to call them since their powers came from meteor rock exposure, but Star City has crime.  Well, hopefully that crime doesn't reach the halls of Star City High.  I might have to get out my bow if it does.  Mom and Dad can help Clark and the rest of the JLA with keeping places like Metropolis and Star City under control, but Star City High is my turf.  

It might be questionable if I become willing to use murder, but I can guarantee that there will be blood.  I just need to remember my manners.


	6. Chapter Six

October 2027

 

Dear Diary,

 

I have had bad days, but today was a colossal bad day.

 

So far into this school year, things have been pretty smooth.  Between Aimee, Felicity, and myself, we actually got the school's newspaper up and running.  We divide the work as best we can, but we each kind of fell into our own strict set of tasks.  

Aimee is all for writing the gossip column, spreading stories based on whatever the rumor mill is churning out.  It's earned her as many haters as well as lovers.  I can tell which ones look forward to her gossip column to a point that she seems to have a sizable cult following.  I've seen bad stuff happen to people who badmouth her.  Even some of the guys on the football and lacrosse teams enjoy her stories.  Probably her biggest haters are the cheerleaders.  I also suspect that part of the reason they hate her is because she is so attached to me.  For that matter, they hate poor Felicity too.  Half the time I want to scream at them that it isn't impossible to simply walk up to me and say "hi."  Last week, I think Aimee totally earned the hatred of the cheerleaders.  She wrote a riveting story about a few of the cheerleaders sneaking steroids to the football players.  It was perfectly true and as a result, a third of the football players were kicked off the team and half the cheerleaders were forced off the squad.  Given the intense rivalry between the football and lacrosse teams, the lacrosse team actually baked her a cake as a "thank you."  It was a  really good cake.  They even offered to be her personal secret service in case the football players or the cheerleaders tried to hurt her.  That's my job.  Although to be fair, they would most likely be more gentle.  I might fill them with arrows in all the places that left them in a lot of pain without killing them or whack them really hard with my bo staff.

Felicity, doesn't write many stories of her own too much, but she is the one to do the most research.  Despite how awkward our first encounter might have been, she quickly became comfortable around me and we spend half the time arguing whose computer skills are better.  If it weren't too risky, we might even take our one-upping sessions to seeing who can hack into something quicker and more efficiently.  Maybe I am sounding defensive or smug by saying this, but according to Felicity, she is a self-taught hacker and personally I admire her confidence in her skills.  That's something I can relate to.  I teach myself in my own time as well, but I also have had the almighty Watchtower to train me.  Felicity seems to have gotten comfortable around us, but outside of Aimee, Dig, and myself, she is still a spaz.  

Now where I come in, I, like Mom, search for the weirdness the goes on around school.  Many of the articles I write concern the school and I tend to write exposes showing how some of the crime that goes on outside the school property can affect the school.  I don't know why, but my stories tend to be as popular as Aimee's.  And I am usually the one who interviews people.  Well, that's one area where I take advantage of my Sullivan charm.  I might be a Queen, but I do feel that it's the Sullivan part that I owe my charm to.  I do feel ashamed because I don't have that much of a Wall of Weird as Mom did, but I do try to make her proud as best I can.  The fact that I live in Star City, most of the weirdness manifests in the form of crime and other mayhem that even the police can't seem to figure out.  Or that they fail to disclose any information about.  Once in a while,  Star City High gets its own taste of Smallville-level weirdness.  A couple of weeks ago, there were a few unexplained explosions on the school's football field.  I wrote in my article that there was no source to the explosions.  It was raining that day and the way the explosions went off, it's as if there were little explosives in some of the raindrops.  Weird.  Much to my annoyance, once I told Mom and Dad what had happened they made me promise not to look too deeply into it, to leave it to them.  Really?  Mom didn't listen when she was told to let things go, so why should I?  I got my answer when I was out at night inspecting the damage to the football field when down came the Green Arrow.  After a long fight where I  _almost_ bested him with my collapsible bo staff, Dad told me to go home, or he would shoot me with a tranquilizer dart and I would wake up tied to my bed.  

Having superheroes for parents can really suck sometimes.  I went home and I didn't even listen as Mom told me that she and Dad are only trying to keep me safe.  How can they say that to me when they are  _unsafe_ for a living?  Dad, the vigilante who wears green leather and commands the JLA.  Mom, the powerful hacker who keeps her eye on the heroes and moves them across the board without getting them killed.  I want to join the fight!  But no.  My job is to get my homework done, keep my grades up, and stay out of trouble.  Well, I am going to try and be a hero whether they like it or not.

This week was homecoming week and after a while, I was ready for madness to end.  The school even had a parade through town.  I was very tempted to sabotage it.  Not harmfully; I'm not a terrorist.  But maybe blow a tire?  Do something to the football team to humiliate them and get a laugh out of the public?  Maybe that was one area where I really didn't want Mom, Dad, and even Clark giving me the disapproving eye.  

This year, according to what I've heard from school staff, there will be no Winter Formal, much to the disappointment of many of the student body.  

"Good riddance," Aimee and I said to that as one.  There are more fun things to do than to dress up in suits and dresses and sway to potentially awful music.

But then it was announced that this year's Homecoming Dance was ladies' choice.  I was dead.

There's another thing.  If girls liked me before, this year it's like somebody put me on a pedestal and I became the handsomest freshman in the world.  I'm not afraid of affection, but after awhile having girls get tongue-tied when they see me and go out of their way to earn  _my_ affection gets really annoying.  Is it really so hard for a girl to come up to me and say "Hey, my name is so-and-so, what's yours?"

That did happen once or twice.  Felicity, Aimee, Dig, and I were at our usual lunch table one day almost a month ago and Dig told me,

"Looks like one of your fan clubs wants to join us, Queen," said Dig, slightly amused.  He is still warming up to me.  I even gave up asking him to call me Jon.  I looked up from the crossword puzzle I was working on in that day's issue of the  _Star City Register_ and turned around.  My eyes landed on a group of juniors.  They knew my name, but I didn't know theirs.

One of them very confidently introduced herself and invited me to come sit with her and her friends, promising that it would be more exciting than my group of friends.  First of all, I did not appreciate people insulting my group of friends.  Yeah, they are my own little motley crew of outsiders, but they are my friends.  As politely as I could, I told her that I appreciated the offer, but I was fine where I was at.  I even offered them to sit with us.  Aimee shot me a questioning look, but I winked at her.  She grinned deviously as the group of juniors sat with us.  We spent the rest of lunch period deliberately making them uncomfortable discussing a story about an experimental drug gone awry and left a few students dying from outrageous excursions of excitement.  Even Dig, who isn't really journalistically inclined found the story interesting.  By the end of lunch period, I think we traumatized the juniors.  Sorry, ladies, but that's what you get for insulting my friends.

I am a Paris Hilton-level celebutante and I hate it.  Or maybe not, because it seems my popularity thankfully only extends to the walls of Star City High and Excelsior--a school I don't even attend.  Beyond that, it seems the only people who know my name are those who are acquainted with my parents.  Maybe I have Mom to thank for that.  Keeping my name as unknown as possible in the media.  I appreciate that.

Another time that some girl made a plea for my affection--and very depressing--a senior offered me a cake.  I was in the middle of the foyer at school and I remember thinking,  _How do I turn this girl down without breaking her heart_ _?_   This girl did nothing to upset me so I didn't do anything to make her uncomfortable.  Aimee came to my rescue.  She took the small cake that was labeled as "a token of that girl's affection" and told her that I would think about it.  Aimee shooed her away, but not before asking her to give me her number.  I haven't called her and as September faded into October, I not only became very popular, but I also seem to have been established as one of the most exclusive and inaccessible guys in school.  Inaccessible, I can vouch for, but exclusive?  That's pushing it.  

Mom, Dad, why did you two make me handsome?

At the announcement of the Homecoming Dance being ladies' choice, I became target number one.  At dinner that evening, our peaceful meal with Clark was interrupted by a few visitors.  A few girls from school decided that they couldn't wait until Monday to ask me to the Homecoming Dance.

"Wow, Jon, when did you become Prince Charming?" teased Mom between bites of steak.  

I glared at her and that only fueled her amusement.  

"Ollie, maybe you should be training him to use a mighty sword and a shield instead of a bow and his bo staff," added Clark, giggling behind his wineglass.

I turned to Dad, hoping he would save me.  He looked from Mom, to Clark, before offering me a thoughtful look.  "Maybe you're right," he finally said wryly.  

I groaned and put my face in my hands as the table erupted in laughter.  Later, Mom came to me in the study and offered me a few words of comfort.

"Honey, what's so scary about a few girls wanting to take you to the Homecoming Dance?" she asked gently.

I assured her that I didn't think that that was scary so much as what girls were doing to each other.  She invited me to go on and I told her that more than once I have seen girls get into fights because they were arguing about which one of them was going to ask me out.  Lots of "I saw him first" and "No, I saw him first" and "You agreed that  _I_ was going to ask him out!"  If I didn't know any better, I'd say I was emanating a love molecule that was making every girl in school want to make me her man.  Although, to be fair, there are a number of girls who don't do anything crazy to try an earn my affection.  Some actually try to be more gentle and even make small talk with me.

Mom massaged my shoulders in that motherly way of hers and told me, "Some girls are crazy, but the sooner that you say yes to one of them, the more likely the rest will back off."

"Or lock my date in the trunk of a car, roll it into the ocean, and try to take her place as my date," I included cynically.

"Gloomy, but possibly," agreed Mom.  There was a knock and Mom and I turned around and saw Aimee.  "Aimee," greeted Mom, enthusiastically, "we weren't expecting you."

Aimee's eyes widened.  "I thought you told me that I was allowed to come and go as I please unless you or Oliver calls and says I can't come?" she reminded Mom.  Mom and Dad invited her to call them "Chloe" and "Oliver" respectively a long time ago.

"We did," confirmed Mom.  "Do you want anything to eat or drink?"

"No, thank you," said Aimee.  "Actually, could you give J.Q. and I moment, please?"

I looked at Mom and she smiled slyly.  "Sure."  She left the room and Aimee turned to me.

"Are you here to tell me that I need to say 'yes' to one of our classmates?" I asked, not unkindly.

Aimee laughed that beautiful laugh of hers.  She actually looked very pretty that evening.  Her dark hair was draped around her shoulder in a half-up French braid and she skipped her usual soft-colored flannel for a purple shirt to go with her twenty-year-old leather jacket.  She was trying to impress me.  "No, I'm not here to do that," she promised.  "Actually, um...I..."  Aimee Marek and a loss for words is never a good thing.  

"Are you asking me to Homecoming?" I asked her incredulously.

She smiled with a shrug.  "Uh, yeah."  Then she added something more Aimee-like.  "I figured I'd save your life and have you on the arm of your best friend than leave you to the wolves."

I laughed, but then I got up from my armchair and strode over to her very slowly and she sat frozen as I stopped only inches away from her.  Eventually, I smiled and told her, "I'd be happy to go to Homecoming with you."  It was very brief, but I saw a little fire kindle in her eyes before she got up and said,

"Great, don't forget to pick me up next Saturday, now let's find a movie to watch."  I studied her that evening.  Is it possible my best friend might have a little bit of a crush on me?  When I accepted her offer to take me to Homecoming, that flicker in her eyes was something I had never seen before.  Was she worried that I would say no?  Was she thinking that I would let her go to a dance without anyone on her arm?  Whether she did have a crush on me or not, I decided that it might be good to wait before I jump to conclusions and make a mistake.  Well, even if the dance wasn't ladies' choice, I wouldn't let Aimee go without a date.  Or even Felicity who instead of shunning boys, is just made fun of by them.  If she doesn't ask Dig to go to the dance with her, then I might have to encourage her to do so.  

Homecoming week was a madhouse, but as news of Aimee taking me to the dance spread across the halls of the school, I took pleasure in the disappointment of the ladies who were hoping to have me on  _their_ arm.  Given my popularity, it came as no surprise when I was announced as Homecoming King at the pep rally on Friday.  I didn't know the girl who was announced as Homecoming Queen.  Some junior whose name I didn't commit to memory.  At least I only have to dance one dance with her when that stupid crown was placed on my head.  I only attended the homecoming game because Dig was on the team and I wanted to show support for my friend, but I have grown to hate football in recent years.  

Sorry Dad.  Sorry Clark.  Though I do enjoy the Olympics.  

On Saturday, I let Mom fiddle with my hair.  Usually I settle for just finger-combing my hair, but Mom wanted me to look even neater, as if I didn't already take pride in my appearance.  I chose one of my Burberry suits with the purple shirt and tie.  I bought a white corsage a few days ago to give to Aimee and Mom thought I made a good choice, feeling that it fit Aimee really well.

Brian and I arrived at Aimee's house maybe five minutes earlier than she expected and when I saw her I couldn't believe my eyes.  Gone was the flannel.  Gone was the denim.  Gone was the extensive collection of Converses and boots with or without a heel.  She wore a grayish white single-shoulder dress with black trim and black gloves that went to her elbows.  There was also a trail of black flowery print that went from her left hip and continued the strap.  And her hair was pulled back in an elegant up-do that I can't remember the name of.  

It took me a minute to find my voice, but I told her she looked beautiful.  She told me I didn't look so bad myself.  I made a good choice in corsages and she offered me a small purple boutonniere. 

We were having a good time at our homecoming.  We teased each other, made fun of the music, smiled over at Felicity and Dig who were laughing and dancing quite enthusiastically, and then came the dance between the Homecoming King and Queen.  Shouldn't I have been the Queen since, after all, I am a Queen?  That girl talked my ear off and I never even got to make a real conversation with her.

From that point, my evening went south.  

After the dance, I looked for Aimee where she said she'd be, but I didn't find her.  Okay, maybe she went to the bathroom.  I could wait a few minutes.  When a few minutes turned to a half hour I began to worry.  I tried her cell, but there was no answer.  To make sure everything was okay, I left the gym and no sooner that I was out of sight of anyone, did I feel a sharp blow to my head.

When I came to, I found myself with a massive headache and I was zip-tied to a teacher's chair.  My eyes found Nigel Payson.  

"Nigel, if you wanted to talk, all you had to do was ask," I told him with a friendly smile.  That comment was met with a punch to my face.  "Where's Aimee?" I demanded.

"Oh, you mean the bitch's daughter?" sneered Nigel.  "She's being taken care of."

Dark fury raged through me.  "If you put one finger on her, I'll..."

"You'll what?" laughed Nigel.  "You're zip-tied to a chair."

It didn't take me long to figure out what this was about.  Nigel Payson's mother was sentenced to fifteen years in prison for business deals with the Chinese Triad involving illegal weapons by Aimee's mother who, since they moved to Star City, has become a very outstanding judge at court.  My guess that the reason Nigel would be upset with me is because Mom wrote the article describing the trial, showing everyone what a crook Mrs. Payson was.  What I was sure he didn't know was that, while Dad was bringing down Mrs. Payson as well as a few members of the Triad, Mom, using the powerful computers of the Star City branch of Watchtower, siphoned the profit made from the weapons out of Mrs. Payson's accounts and put that money into an account involving a children's hospital.  When Mom isn't using the Watchtower in Metropolis where Clark is living now, she has a similar setup here in Star City near the Glades.  And actually it's in an old building owned by Queen Industries.  Officially, it's condemned and strictly off-limits, but on the inside it's pretty much an Arrow/Watchtower cave.  

"I'm sorry that your mom's in prison," I apologized to Nigel.  "Maybe I'll ask  _my_ mom to send her an apology letter to her as well."  Another blow to the face.  Nigel is not very clever.  If he was, he would have emptied my pockets.  I had a small blade hidden up my sleeve and I was working on cutting the zip-tie.  "Also, did you enjoy my mom's article?  I think I can get her to send an autograph.  She likes to know that her work is appreciated."  Nigel brought his fist out to punch me again, but by that time, I worked my hands free and I caught his fist.  Taking advantage of his surprise, I quickly subdued him in the way that Mom and Dad taught me how.  It wasn't even much of a fight.  But I wasn't done with him yet, so I didn't knock him out.  Twisting his arm behind his back to the point that he let out a very unmanly squeal, I demanded, "I'll repeat my earlier question:  where...is...Aimee?"

"Go to he-AHHH!"

"Where?" my voice dropped to a deadly whisper.  

"She's in the next the room!  Please, please stop!"  

I fished my Taser out of my inside pocket and pressed it to his testicles.  "Consider that a temporary castration," I told him as he fell to the ground.  I rushed out of the room and to the next and there I found Aimee tied up in a similar fashion and guarded by a couple of Nigel's minions.  Seeing Aimee with her lip busted and her hair in disarray filled me with even worse fury than before.  

"J.Q., help me, please," she pleaded.  I didn't need to be asked twice.  Similar to Nigel, these boys didn't really know how to fight and I think I broke their noses.  One of them, I think I cracked a rib and his cheek was going to need stitches.  When I was done with them, I rushed over to Aimee and snipped the zip-tie with a pair of scissors I found in the teacher's desk.  Once her hands were free, she threw her arms around me and sobbed.  I held her to me.  

"Some dance, huh?" she tried to joke, but she only sobbed harder.  "I went to the bathroom and these guys just came out of nowhere and I--"

I shushed her and she held me tighter.  "Everything's going to be okay, Aimee."  I led her out of the room and she never let go of me.  

"J.Q., your face..." she said, worriedly if not angrily.  I felt that anger too.  She gave me her pocket mirror and my mouth was bleeding, there was a cut on my cheek and one of my eyes was swelling into a black eye.  

"Let me take you home," I offered.

"No," she protested.  "My parents are away for the weekend."  She buried her face in my chest and told me, "Please, I don't wanna be alone."  Aimee is never like this.  My best friend is the girl who is always teasing me and putting up the feisty girl attitude, even bringing a few guys painfully to their knees.

"I'm sure my parents won't mind you staying over for a little while," I assured her.  I called Brian and he came as fast as he could.  When Aimee and I got to my house, later, Mom and Dad were horrified.

"Baby, what happened to you?" demanded Mom, carefully inspecting my face as Dad gently took Aimee and steered her to a chair.  She might have just healed my face with her powers, but there was Dad's apprehensiveness.  Plus, it would be kind of hard to explain to my best friend why my face was suddenly free of injury.  Maybe she would understand.  She did grow up in Smallville after all.  I really hate having secrets between us.

I explained everything and Dad was angry and Mom was angry too, but I think it was more guilt than anger.  She apologized to both me and Aimee for this happening.  Aimee assured her that it wasn't her fault.  After that, Mom and Dad led us to the kitchen where Dad dished us out some much-needed ice cream.  Dad carefully looked at the cut on my cheek and told me that it didn't need any stitches, just needed to be cleaned up.  

After awhile, Mom complimented Aimee's dress.  It was a very beautiful dress.  I half-thought that Aimee ought to wear dresses more often, but given how stunning she was, maybe it was best left for special occasions.  

Oh, God, I think I might have feelings for her too.

Mom gave her a guest bedroom not far from mine, mostly because Aimee didn't want to be too far from me and gave her some clothes to wear.  Later Mom stopped by my room.

"I think you're her hero," she observed proudly.

"Does this mean I get to keep my bow close by?" I asked hopefully.

"I don't think so," came Dad's voice.  "But, we're proud of you, Jonathan."  

I beamed at them.  Before they left I asked Mom, "Was your freshman homecoming as...violent?"

Mom laughed as she reminisced.  "No...at least not for me, but Clark definitely had something to do with that.  Goodnight, buddy."

She and Dad left my room and I sat in silence for a few minutes.  The evening went from good to bad very quickly, but I got my first taste of heroism.  I hope I can continue to be a hero.  Hopefully, Aimee won't take up the role as damsel-in-distress too many times.  I might go crazy.

 

 


	7. Chapter Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: this chapter briefly talks about rape.

November 2027

 

Dear Diary, 

 

In the weeks following my dramatic Homecoming, things were normal for the most part.  Half the girls in school had a crush on me; Aimee, Felicity, and I continued to build ourselves a reputation in the SCH Times, or the  _SHIT_  as plenty of students called it.  I continued to improve my skills as an archer and fighter, becoming really good at bojutsu, I became a karate black belt when I was twelve, and I am learning aikido, and recently Mom finally let me try shooting handguns for the first time.  The recoil took some getting used to.  Dig finally started warming up to me a little more once he found out what happened to Aimee and I on the night of Homecoming.  Thankfully, almost no one knows about that incident.  Dad might have...persuaded Nigel to keep his mouth shut.  

Poor Aimee.  Since that night, she has spent as much time as she could being near me.  Actually, she spends a lot of time with her hand around my arm.  It's not a gesture that I am unfamiliar with where she is concerned.  She wraps her hand around my arm all the time when we hang out.  Lately, however, the way she holds my arm it's like she's clinging for dear life.  She's a tough girl with a mouth and a thirst for adventure and lately, if a guy other than me, Dig, her dad, or even my dad touches her, she lashes out.  A while ago, I think about a week and a half before the Halloween weekend, one of our classmates just tapped her shoulder only to get her attention and she sucker-punched the poor guy.  I couldn't hold back any longer.  

I asked her if those guys did anything other than simply slap her around a bit and mess up her face.  We were by ourselves, sitting on of the benches in my family's large garden and she confessed that those boys at Homecoming were talking about raping her.  By the time I intervened, they both had already played with her breasts and touched her just about everywhere.  If I'd have been any later, she told me that her underwear probably would have been missing.  That explained the little red marks I saw on her chest and upper arms.  I squeezed my glass soda bottle so hard it shattered in my hand.  Thankfully, I didn't get any shards stuck in my hand.  I took her in my arms and simply held her to me. 

What drives people to rape?  Are people that desperate for sexual release?  Is the level of sexual arousal so high that common sense and courtesy are ignored, leaving a person unable to listen to the word "no"?  Are people just beasts who take sexual fulfillment where and when they need it and the entire concept of consent is fiction, nonexistent, or simply optional?  Do some people just want to see others suffer and they feel the best and most horrific way to do so is to touch them in what should be exclusively limited to that of a lover?

I might have told Aimee that at least no penetration was involved, but I thought better of it.  We both suddenly became more mature about something that neither of us were prepared for.  We already had to suffer through sex-ed in health class, but my best friend was raped.  She is still a virgin as far as I know, but she was touched.  

I held Aimee on the bench surrounded by Mom's favorite white tulips and she eventually began to shake with sobs.  Seriously, the only times I have seen her shed a tear was when I was her only company.  I'm glad that she feels safe enough around me to shed tears when she needs to.  

"Can I ask you something?" Aimee asked into my chest. 

I smiled as I rested my chin on top of her head.  "Sure."

"Where did you learn to fight?" 

How was I supposed to answer that?  Besides the personal trainers who taught me bojutsu, karate, I have been learning fighting techniques from Dad, Mom, and Bruce Wayne--who has been teaching me aikido.  Clark might have offered me a few lessons, but his Kryptonian complications make for a very unfair advantage.  Unless Mr. Wayne is willing to make another Kryptonite-enhanced suit for me to wear, I'll never have real a fighting lesson from the Man of Steel.  

"A few personal trainers," I answered evenly.

"Who are all probably too expensive for a middle-class girl like me to afford," grumbled Aimee.  Then I thought a light bulb lit up in her head.  "Could you teach me?"

I didn't see that one coming.  "Um, Aimee, I'm not exactly..."

She grabbed fistfuls of my shirt and looked up at me.  As I'm writing this down, I remember seeing pleading, fear, and desperation in her eyes.  "Please, J.Q., I don't want something like that happening to me again and you might not always be there to save me and I..." I shushed her.

"I'll talk to my parents about it," I promised.  She smiled and hugged me again.  It seems that she can always get me to do stuff for her.  And she was wrong about one thing--I'll always be there to save her.  I sure hope that Mom and Dad don't make fun of, or scold me for my obvious hero complex.  It would be very hypocritical.  At that moment, I thought of something that might cheer her up. 

"Do you have any plans for Halloween?"

Aimee swallowed.  "Not really."

"My parents are holding a Halloween party at Queen Industries and they are making me attend against my will and I was wondering if you'd like to be my plus-one," I offered with a smile.  

She laughed.  "You're the only one who can get me to cry, smile, and laugh all in five minutes or less."

I shrugged.  "It's a gift."

"Candy, liquor, music, rich snobs dressing up in borderline ludicrous outfits as they lie to themselves they are genuinely happy to be making contributions to the world while they are really just maintaining a decent public image...I'd love to go with you."  I sure hope that the Sullivan-Queens aren't among those snobs.  

The rest of the afternoon, Aimee didn't frown once.

 

In the days leading up to the Halloween function, I happily noticed Aimee becoming more relaxed.  She didn't hurt the next boy who touched her.  Instead she gave him the Aimee Look.  She is very subtle about it even if she is a bit spunky and is not afraid leaving a number of buttons on her flannels undone, but Aimee does catch a boy's eye once in awhile.  A good number of people, even the ones who might show interest in her, tend to dismiss her as a Kansas farm girl, and she couldn't care less.  The "Aimee Look" as many of our classmates have come to call it, is a look that feels like a glare, but is really nothing at all.  She will lock eyes with you and hold you there with the iciest of grips.  You don't know if she wants to hurt you, dismiss you, belittle you, or if she is just regarding you the same as anyone.  Sometimes she will smile and ask for an interview for the next day's newspaper.  Sometimes she will come up very close to you to the point that she threatens to invade your personal space and say something cryptic that will leave you not knowing if you should feel insulted or complimented or something in between.  At least at school, I have only seen her truly smile at three people:  Felicity, Dig, and myself.

As Halloween came nearer, I gave Mom a pair of pumpkin earrings.  She liked them very much.  I also surprised Dad with what I am sure he--as well as Mom--thought to be a very unexpected suggestion.

I convinced him not wear a Robin Hood costume...or any costume that was linked to an archer.  He blinked at me several times.  Clearly, he thought I was joking.  I wasn't joking.  Come on, he wears green leather and shoots arrows at night and dressing up as something even remotely related to that at any function that requires him to show up in a costume is pretty uncreative.  I told him as much and as respectfully as I could.  I must have done something right, because he actually offered a considerate look to the idea.  Unsurprisingly, he couldn't come up with anything, and neither could Mom, so they asked what I would have him wear.  I had a pretty good idea in mind.  

Mom also invited Clark to the function.  He hasn't exactly dated anyone since his breakup with Aunt Lois and, though it seemed at this point like he was coming as more of a third wheel, even if he was Mom's best friend, we still interrupt his solitary life inside of Watchtower and the Kent house.  Suddenly, he's the one who needs to get out more, instead of Mom who did something similar when she and Dad were at the earliest stages of their relationship as Dad tells me.  

I love Clark, but I really wanted to mess with him at this function.  It took a considerable amount of bribery and googly-eyed begging that I think is working less and less as puberty has made my voice deeper, taller, but still shorter than Dad, and pretty much made me look more mannish than boyish.  Mom tried to get me to tell her what costume I picked out for Clark, even offering me a fondue dinner for my upcoming birthday, but I promised her that it would be worth the wait.  Though, I did tell her what _my_ costume was going to be and she liked the idea, partly because it was going to make Dad jealous. 

I am really looking forward to that fondue dinner for my birthday next week.

On Friday, before Halloween, the school invited students to dress up if they wanted to.  There were some crazy costumes and there were a few dressed up as some of the more prolific members of the JLA.  Superman, Green Arrow, even a couple of girls dressed up at varying levels of modesty as Wonder Woman.  One of them, I think was actually sent home because her outfit was too...sexual to put it kindly.  Aimee, Felicity, and I didn't participate, but Dig wore what he told me was his older brother, Andy's, old Army uniform.  Dig doesn't talk about his brother much.  All I know is that he was killed while on leave.  Not even a heroic death.  We did indulge ourselves in candy when our teachers offered it to us.  The selection of white chocolate was disappointingly low.

The day of Halloween, I readied myself for the function.  Before long, Mom came and knocked at my door.

"Can I come in?" she asked.  

"Yeah," I told her, inspecting myself in the mirror.  The door opened and Mom let out an appreciative chuckle.

"Jonathan Sullivan-Queen, where were you when they were casting  _Lord of the Rings_?" she marveled, taking in my Legolas costume.  Most of it was handmade from stuff I had collected over time.  The cloak I made myself using the sewing skills Clark taught me.  It went really well with my recurve bow and I had ordered replicas of Legolas's knives online.  I even put prosthetics on my ears to make them look pointy.  Not outrageously pointy, but similar to what they were like in the movies.  Although, I omitted wearing a wig or extenders to make my hair longer.  I liked where my hair was.  Long enough that without finger-combing it or using product, my bangs were level with my eyes, but short enough that I had control over it.  

"You like it?" I asked, suddenly feeling self-conscious despite my hard work.  

Mom laughed.  "I love it sweetie, but you should probably leave out those knives...and the arrows."  

I rolled my eyes.  "Can I keep the bow?"

"Yes, as long as you don't hit anybody with it."

"Don't tempt me, Mother," I mutter as I removed the arrows from my quiver.  I held up the toy arrows from one of my old toys hopefully.  Mom smiled and nodded her consent.  I put them in my quiver and I removed the knives.  After that, I finally took a moment to look at Mom's costume.  I gave her a quizzical look.  "Aren't you more of a Hermione Granger, not a Luna Lovegood?"

"I worked hard on this outfit," Mom retorted.  She swept aside some of her hair and I had to admire the radishes she made into earrings.  Like me, she didn't do anything to make her short hair look longer.  Before I could ask if she had a wand to go with her outfit, she reached inside her Hogwarts robe and her hand reappeared with a replica of Luna Lovegood's wand.  Given her healing powers, she might as well be an awesome witch.

"Just don't top it off with the flighty voice," I pleaded with a grimace.

Mom chuckled.  "I'll try not to, now can you help me with your father?"

I followed her out the door and made our way through the long hallways until we came upon my parents' bedroom.  I followed Mom in and I saw that the door to their bathroom was shut.  And probably locked.  

"Hey, Dad," I began conversationally, "everything okay in there?"

"Remind me never to take advice from you again, young man," came Dad's voice from the other side of the door.  Why was he upset?

"What did you make him dress up as?" Mom asked, though I heard a bit of disapproval in her voice.  

I might as well tell her.  "Malcolm Reynolds."  Short-lived TV show, but it was so good and it's of the shows that Mom and I have a mutual love for.  We can pretty much recite each of the fourteen episodes.  Reciting the movie  _Serenity_ is still taking some time.  Why did they kill off Wash?  Screw Joss Whedon for that!  At hearing the name, Mom was clearly interested.  

"Ollie, please come out," she implored.  "What's wrong with dressing up as a space cowboy?"

"There are no cowboys in space," Dad muttered flatly as the door flew open.  Why did he look uncomfortable?  It's probably the tight pants.  

"Brown's not your color, but you look good Dad," I complimented, giving him a thumbs-up.

"I second that," Mom agreed, making me feel uncomfortable by adding a wink and an air-kiss.  

I thought of something that might cheer him up.  "Dad, I promise you, once you see Clark's costume, you'll feel a lot better."  I probably should not have said that.  The Sullivan-Queens can tell when one of them is hiding something.

"What aren't you telling us, Elf-boy?" I would have taken offense to that, but I saw his look and despite the suspicion, he looked like he liked my costume.

"If I tell you now, it will ruin the surprise," I stated matter-of-factly.  I checked my watch.  "Now I've got a best friend who is expecting us to pick her up in twenty minutes, so we should probably leave."

We left in a nick of time.  Give or take a few red lights, Aimee lives about ten minutes from me and that is assuming the amount of traffic is only average.  We arrived at her house about five minutes before she was expecting us.  I barely got out of the car when her front door swung open. 

"Wow," I breathed.  It was a little chilly to go without a jacket, but underneath her leather jacket was a tank top, skinny jeans, calf-high boots, holsters with what I am sure were fake guns, her dark hair was pulled back into a ponytail...  "Who would have thought you'd make a good Lara Croft?" I asked incredulously.

Aimee shrugged and smiled proudly.  She countered who would have thought that I'd get in touch with my inner Elf as she came around and got in the car.  On the way to the Queen Tower, she complimented Mom and Dad's costumes.  Even she thought that Mom was more of a Hermione Granger than a Luna Lovegood.  Mom groaned.  As we got to the Tower, I took it upon myself to help Aimee feel more comfortable since she had never been to Queen Tower, much less spent much time downtown beyond the times I have taken her shopping and out for movie nights.

When we got to the penthouse room that was most often used for these silly functions, as even Dad liked to refer to them, we were greeted enthusiastically.  Dad broke away first to go speak with one of his business partners, Tommy Merlin it looked like and Mom scanned the crowd, probably looking for Clark.  I didn't see him either, and he would stand out quite easily.  I pointed Aimee towards the snack bar and told her to wait for me there.  As she walked off, Mom stood beside me.

"You're really good to her, Jon," she said proudly.  "I think you really did her a favor by inviting her out to this."  Mom's the only person I confided in regarding Aimee's near-rape incident.  

"I just wish I had gotten to her sooner, before they even touched her," I said ruefully.  Mom put a hand on my shoulder and squeezed it reassuringly.  

"You can't save everyone, and just be glad that you got to her when you did," she encouraged.  "And if you ask me, you save her every day just by being her friend."

I looked down at my mother.  She looked serious, but there was a smile in her green eyes.  Eventually, I smiled too.  Mom laughed and nuzzled her cheek against my arm.  Just then, the room erupted in catcalls, laughs, and what basically amounted to  _ooh-la-la_ 's.  I couldn't hide my smile as we turned around and saw the latest guest.  

Mom covered her mouth to control herself.  "Oh, my God!" she giggled beneath her hand.

"Son, what did you do?" came Dad's voice.  He offered a glass of wine to Mom and me a can of soda.

Any practice I might have tried to look innocent was gone.  Outrageously large white wings strapped to his back, a white pair of boxer briefs and...and a small bow.  To top it off, his hair was a mess of curls.  Did he actually use a curling iron or something?  Roman sandals that looked like they must have taken at least five minutes each to lace up.  

Dad couldn't contain himself.  "Is-is that...?"

"My second birthday bow?" I finish.  "Yeah."

The three of us laughed.  Cupid strode over to us and I gulped.  Mom and Dad looked a little apprehensive in case they needed to defend me.

"Hello, Jon," greeted Cupid with the angriest of smiles.

"Hiya, Clark!" I returned with a bright grin.  "I told you you'd look adorable."

Mom and Dad only laughed harder, although when Clark fixed his gaze on them, they immediately fell silent.  

Dad cleared his throat first.  "Um, yeah, it's really not that funny."

"No, it's not," echoed Mom.  "Shame on you, Jonathan."

I rolled my eyes.  "Tell that to the guy dressed up as Tarzan," I muttered, taking a sip of my soda.  The three adults looked towards where I was indicating.  The obese, hairy guy had a large loincloth and that was all.  

"At least Clark has a bow so that if he needs to he can shoot one of the women in this room and make them fall in love with him," I offered.

Clark grumbled and swept off, leaving a trail of appreciative looks from the women as he passed.  I looked at my parents and shrugged.

Mom shook her head as fresh giggles bubbled out of her.  "You're devious.  You tell your father," she indicated Dad, "that he shouldn't dress up as an archer and you go around and dress up Clark as an archer."  She shook her head again.  "I need to send a photo of Clark to Aunt Lois."

"Better yet, how about all of the JLA," suggested Dad.  "Mopey Mopington needs to get a smile on his face."  He clapped me on the back.  "Thanks for that, son."

"Anytime, Dad," I said with a smile.  I looked over at the snack bar and saw Aimee was still there, looking a little left out.  "Um, could you two excuse me, please?"

Mom saw Aimee, and smiled.  "Go be with your best friend," she motioned with a wink.

I heeded her words and joined Aimee.  "Was that your godfather?" she asked giving me a quizzical look.  I looked over at Cupid Clark.  

"Yep." 

Aimee laughed.  "Your mom and your godfather look good for a pair of forty-year-olds," she observed.  Oh, boy, even my best friend is smart enough to pick up on the apparent delay in age.  I turned to her and she was looking at me seriously.  "Thanks for bringing me out to this," she thanked softly over the commotion and music.  "I really needed it."

We simply shared a smile and we clinked out soda cans.  Eventually, we went off to the side somewhere and started discussing the costumes.  Most ridiculous, most hideous, most effort, most beautiful, coolest, dumbest, favorite, least favorite, most outrageous...we just talked and I felt that Aimee was finally fully reverting back to the old Aimee.  Not the scared, afraid-to-be-touched Aimee who more than once asked to sleep over at my house just so she could be near me.  

I hope Clark starts talking to me again soon.  He hasn't spoken a word to me since the Halloween party.  He's probably recovering from his embarrassment with the JLA who I hear have taken to calling him "Cupid" instead of "Boy Scout."  He'll come around eventually.  He always does.

I wonder what he's getting me for my birthday.  I wonder where he'll take me on our flight.  Crap, now my anticipation is so strong that I worry I'll have seven days' worth of fitful sleep.  Shame on you, excitement. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that in Arrow, Andy was John Diggle's younger brother, but for this story, I felt that making him his older brother seemed more appropriate.


	8. Chapter Eight

December 2027

 

Dear Diary,

 

The past month and a half have been great.  On my fifteenth birthday, I got two of the best surprises.  First, Aunt Lois came home finally and we were all very happy to see her.  Well, almost everyone.  When Clark came over and the two laid eyes on each other, the awkward silence was deafening.  I don't think that they were meant for each other, but I do hope that they can at least be friends.  I remember their reunion as clear as day.

We had just brought Lois back from the airport and she had gone into interview mode, interrogating me with more questions than I could answer about how I've been, what I've been up to, the friends I've made, anything that I might have left out in my voluminous emails.  I love her, but how am I supposed to answer six years' worth of questions?  Questions about Aimee.  (I proudly had quite a bit to tell about my best friend) Questions about my fighting skills.  Am I better archer than Dad?  (Getting there)  Can I beat Dad in a fight?  (Working on it)  Am I better hacker than Mom?  (She still refuses to tell me my progress in that, but I think I am becoming quite good at that)  Is my "Queen charm" up to par?  (I guess I come off as charming without meaning to, but I am preferably more like Mom in the sense that I try to not live up to the expectations of the status quo.  And I am insatiably curious)

On and on, Aunt Lois interrogated me as we sat together in the living room.  More than once, she told me that she would really like to meet Aimee, who was out of town at the time for Thanksgiving.  Yeah, my birthday and Thanksgiving fall close together and I don't always get to have the guests that I'd like to have.  Aimee did, however give me an early birthday present before her family left for Wichita.  It's a vintage fleece-lined aviator's jacket.  I don't know how much she spent on it, but I love it.  

I also took a moment to really look at Aunt Lois.  I have to say, she looked good.  Not that I have suggestive feelings for my mother's cousin, but she seems a lot more relaxed than when I saw her last.  She's standing up straighter, her smile is less strained, even her hair has more of a glisten to it.  When we picked her up from the airport, she still looked more ready for the north African sun rather than the north-Californian autumn.  We bought her a coat.

Over the years, she had gotten me interested in ancient Egyptian history and, as a birthday present, she got me a large volume of Egyptian hieroglyphics and the history behind them. 

Dad got me really good box seat tickets to see one of my favorite plays in December. That was a great time and Aimee, who had never seen a play live before, was over the moon.  

Mom got me a couple of video games that I really wanted and later that night I got to playing one of them.

Now Clark, who was usually pretty punctual where holidays and family gatherings are concerned, was mysteriously missing.  Since he had promised to come and he always keeps his promises where Mom, Dad, Grandma Martha, probably Aunt Lois, and myself are concerned, I wanted dinner and cake to wait until he arrived.  Where could he be?  Aunt Lois couldn't help rolling her eyes, saying that he was probably out somewhere taking care of a disaster and saving lives.  No, he would have called and told us.  

Eventually, he breezed in the doorway.  I was totally unprepared for what he had brought with him.

"Sorry, Jon, but I think this was worth the wait," he apologized with a huge grin.  His hand came out from behind his back and my heart nearly burst out of my chest.  

He got me a puppy!  A wolf mix who was three parts Siberian Husky and one part grey wolf with blue eyes and mostly white fur with grayish brown markings on her face.  Clark explained that he found the twelve-week-old puppy somewhere in Alaska and he immediately thought of me.  Of course, he took the poor thing to a vet to make sure she was healthy and everything, free of rabies and whatnot, but he I thought I would love it.  And he was damn right.  I sat in the middle of the living room and I waited for the little creature to come to me.  She did eventually and I named her Artemis after the Greek goddess and huntress.  Appropriate as I am an archer myself.  

While Mom and Aunt Lois were cooing over my new friend, Dad was regarding her skeptically.  She was going to be a big dog.  Two months have passed and she isn't at her full height yet, but she's getting bigger.  Dad eventually came to love the dog as much as Mom and I do.  Aunt Lois even though she thought the puppy was cute pretended to be upset, joking that now that there was something in the house that made her sneeze she would never visit ever again.  As if that would ever happen.  

As much as I love flying with Clark for each of my birthdays, I was more than satisfied with the puppy.  She's a big responsibility in my life right now, but it's one that I happily embrace.

After Thanksgiving break when Aimee, came back, she fell in love with Artemis almost immediately.  My family can afford some top notch breeders, but there is something more special about adopting a rescue.  Those poor animals have been through a lot and they deserve to have a home and a family.  

Aunt Lois has been staying with us for the past couple of months and while the initial reunion was awkward enough, things are slowly becoming more amiable between Clark and Lois.  She still calls him "Smallville."  At this point, they are like a pair of siblings alternating between getting along and bickering like there is no tomorrow.  

I have faith that they will both find somebody special again.  You never know when the next love of your life is right around the corner.

I better get going now.  It's almost midnight and everyone's gathered at Watchtower for the count down.  Happy New Year!


	9. Chapter Nine

March 2028

 

Dear Diary,

 

One downside to being the son of not one, but two superheroes is you kind of have to grow up in a hurry.  Most fifteen-year-olds worry about finding their place in high school, learning to drive (actually, I am not having much trouble with that), getting their first tastes of romance that mostly like crash and burn, unless your like Aimee's grandparents who got married when they were sixteen and are still happily married.  They didn't get married because of a pregnancy.  Me, I worry about my archery skills, my martial arts skills, my accuracy with firearms, my hacking skills, and staying out of trouble.  I'm sure that I am not the only kid who is learning to be a fighter alongside his academics and life lessons, but I do feel that maybe it makes finding time to just be a teenager more difficult.

Training Artemis is a bit of a challenge.  One of the first things I did after I was done cooing over my new puppy was research Huskies.  Artemis barks sometimes, but as per her Husky side, she tends to howl more than she barks.  She's very energetic and sometimes it drives the house staff crazy.  Mom and Dad are okay with her energy and they even help me train her sometimes.  Potty-training took all of one week thankfully and she knows a few basic commands like sit, stay, be quiet, come, to name a few.  She has a mind of her own and is a bit of an escape artist, but at the end of the day, she is the sweetest animal in the world.  She loves to be around everyone and she has solidified herself as a member of the family.

As for her wolf part, she can be aggressive.  She's great with everyone in the house and even Clark, but she isn't always friendly with visitors.  Some visitors she is very gentle and friendly, but there are some where she becomes more aggressive and unwelcoming.  About a month ago, Lex Luthor came to our house again and Artemis was not very friendly.  While Dad was having a business discussion with Mr. Luthor, Mom and I were on Artemis duty.  

We were outside and I was shooting arrows at multiple targets and the weirdest thing happened.  Artemis actually caught one of the arrows in midair.  I was aiming for one of the closer targets and I didn't shoot the arrow with too much velocity, and my dog caught the arrow!  At first I was scared because I didn't want her to get injured, but she caught the wooden practice arrow and she brought it back to me and laid it at my feet.  

"Wow," said Mom and I could only echo her.

As time went by, I having been teaching Artemis as many skills as I could.  She's not a Golden Retriever or a Border Collie, but some skills she did pick up on.  She knows when to be a friend and when to be a beast.  She's not a full-grown dog yet, but I bet when she is, she will be my personal wolf.  Though, given how protective she is of everyone I care about, I think we tend to argue about which one of us is the alpha.

Valentine's Day was interesting.  A number of girls wanted me to be their valentine.  I found stuff in my locker, in the SCH Times office, and some even offered me something directly.  I established boundaries a long time ago and for the most part the girls in school respect those boundaries, but I guess the evil powers of Valentine's Day are so strong any sense of respect is stripped away from people.  On a happy note, Aimee landed herself a nice date.  I kept my eyes open in case I needed to intervene, but thankfully she told me later that her date went well and that there might be a second date.  That second date never happened.  Given all the Valentine's Day candy I received, I gave everyone some of the candy.  I kept all the white chocolates for myself and gave a few chocolates to Mom and Dad.....

I

I

I

i

I

I

I

FUCK!  FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK!

I said that being the son of a couple of superheroes can suck, well given that, I might as well share why I am having a tense spring break.  Mom and Dad are usually pretty good about keeping their identities secret, but some foes are more shrewd than others.  One of which is a Chinese Triad woman by the name of Chien Na Wei.  First time I remember Dad encountering her, he came home with a number of knife wounds.  That was also one of the times he let Mom heal him without any objection, even if she was subsequently bedridden with Neosporin.  

Chien Na Wei has been a thorn in Star City's side more than I care to admit.  Clark has offered his help more than once, but he has his own equally annoying adversaries to worry about in Metropolis without overburdening himself with our problems.  China White, as she is commonly known, is one of those adversaries that Dad has explicitly told me not to try and go up against her, even if I am better with bladed weapons than he is.  Even Speedy got to help him with her.  

I think my family officially earned China White's hatred when Mom intercepted a business transaction between the Triad and a now once-respected business conglomerate, causing both the Triad and the conglomerate to lose billions' worth of profit.  Due to the lost profit, members of the Triad began a witch hunt to discover the identity of Watchtower.  Concerned for her safety, Dad insisted that Mom take a break until they could make sure there were no tracks that would lead to either the Watchtower in Metropolis or the condemned building here in Star City which Dad recently reopened as a lavish nightclub.

I guess they must have slipped along the way, because a couple nights ago, the Queen Mansion received some unexpected guests.

I was up really late finishing up a book report for school so that I could enjoy the next five days of spring break without having to worry about homework when I noticed something strange.  I was in the study and I was so absorbed in my laptop that I failed to notice the power had gone out.  The only light I had on was a reading lamp over my armchair and I had ocean waves playing on the TV set.  I probably would have never noticed if it weren't for Artemis, who was curled up at my feet, growling softly.

"What's the matter, sweetie?" I soon got my answer when someone grabbed me from behind and wrapped a garrote around my neck.  So much for hoping I'd never know what it's like to be strangled.  I think I would have died, except Artemis came to my rescue and from the man's cry of pain, she must have bitten him.  I still owe her one of her favorite bones for that.  So the man must have shaken her off, because I heard a crash and a yelp.  Now I was angry.  Nobody hurts my dog.  Wasting no time as the man lost some of his grip on the garrote, dropped my laptop and swung around.  I grabbed the floor lamp next to my armchair and used it as a makeshift bo staff.  

The man was in the middle of pulling himself back together and I caught him just as he was reaching for his gun.  I knocked the gun out of his hand.  It was dark save for the occasional flash of lightning and this guy knew a thing or two about martial arts as it took me a few minutes to actually bring him down.  Suddenly all my lessons weren't lessons anymore.  I was actually fighting someone.  Any excitement I might have once had, itching to actually be in a real fight, was gone.  All I felt was fear, anger, and the sheer need to survive.  This man was clearly out to kill me.  My memory of everything that happened is a little bit of a blur, but I had broken that man's neck.  I was too hyped up on adrenaline to care that I had just killed someone.  

Concerned for my beloved pet, I checked on her.  She was fine.  A little scared and bruised, but she was fine.  I regret having to do it, but I locked her in the study.  If that man was out to kill me, it was safe to assume that there were people out for Mom, Dad, and Aunt Lois who is still living with us as well.  I got rid of the lamp and I grabbed a handgun and a couple extra magazines from behind a photograph on the wall and a katana from a display rack in the study.  I was so scared.  I slowly made my way through the dark house and the first place I checked was Mom and Dad's bedroom.  They weren't there, but I encountered another thug.  What was really weird about this one was at first he was very fierce, pointing the gun at my head, but just before he pulled the trigger the strangest thing happened.  

The man doubled back, like he was really frightened.  I'm not that scary, am I?  A flash of my parents' and Aunt Lois's dead bodies crossed my mind fearfully, and this thug cried out.  "Don't kill my family!" he sobbed in what sounded like a Chinese accent.  These thugs were Triad.  Why was this moron worried about  _his_ family?  Then realization dawned on me.  He was feeling  _my_ fear.  I don't know how, but I guess my fear was so strong that I was channeling it into the person in front of me.  I took advantage of that notion and I thought of something that I thought was truly terrifying and the man screamed as if he just saw his personal boogeyman.  I pressed the katana to his throat and as dangerously as I could, I asked him,

"Where... are...Oliver and Chloe Queen?"

The man was so frightened that he couldn't stop wailing long enough to give me an answer, so I eased up a little on the fear I was channeling.  

"Don't make me ask a second time," it was all I could to sound brave; he was a mirror of just how frightened I was.  Frightened for my family.  Frightened for my life.  Frightened because I already killed a man.  Frightened because I was worried that I was going to have to kill this man.  

"They are in the dining room!" the thug finally cried.  "Please, just let me go."

As anxious as I was to get to my family, I wasn't done intimidating this man yet.  I brought my katana up.  He squeezed his eyes shut, clearly thinking I was about to kill him, but when I brought the blade down I only put a gash in his cheek.  He looked back up at me, clearly surprised.  "Get out of my house," I demanded.  Before I could tell him to use the front door, he took a shortcut out the already-broken window.

Following his direction, I put on my brave face and made my way to the dining room.  When I rounded the corner downstairs, I encountered two more thugs standing guard outside the doors leading to the dining room.  These guys had bigger guns and all I had was a katana and a Glock.  Utilizing the scare tactic I already used with the other thug, I allowed my fear to engulf me and the thugs faltered.  Taking that as a sign that what I was doing was working, I advanced.  They brought their guns up, but I outmaneuvered them and squeezed the trigger.  The thug closest to me went down with a heavy thud with a nasty hole in his head and the other thug must have thought that his gun was useless as he dropped it and pulled out a large knife of his own.  I dropped my Glock and I fought the man.  He was surprisingly good with that knife, but I was better with my katana.  The fight ended with a blinding swing of my katana.  I didn't even grimace as the man's head slid off his shoulders and the body went down in a pool of blood and flesh.  

Panting, I kicked the doors to the dining room open.  Therein I found Mom, Dad, and Aunt Lois tied to their chairs and bruised.  That made me angrier than I ever thought possible.  

"Well, well, well," my eyes landed on the white-haired Asian woman who I only knew to be Chien Na Wei.  "You must be Jonathan."

I did not return the courtesy.  "If you wanted to make my family's acquaintance, all you had to do was ask at a much more reasonable hour."

China White laughed.  "Yes, I'm sure that introducing myself properly would have been more preferable, but I'm afraid both your parents have exhausted their rights for proper introductions."  She regarded me thoughtfully.  "You seem to be quite the fighter for someone so young."

I smiled.  "I had good teachers."

China White looked down at my parents thoughtfully.  "Clearly."  She looked back up at me.  "I have no quarrel with you, boy; don't do anything that you might regret."

I thought about that for a minute.  I looked at China White, taking in her polite, though mocking smile.  Then at my parents.  I know Dad enough to know that behind his brave, cool face, he was scared; Mom did nothing to hide how scared she was given her tear-streaked face.  Aunt Lois was terrified as well, but given the many bruises on her face, I think that she had quite a bit to say before they resorted to their fists.  I returned my gaze to China White and smiled.  

"You know what, you are absolutely right," as soon as I spoke, the people I loved let out some sort of exclamation of surprise, which turned to horror as I dropped my katana and Glock.  "We'll do this my way."  Before China White could do or say anything, I closed my eyes and focused all my thoughts on my fear.  There were five people in the room and this was something I only just discovered so, "Mom, Dad, Aunt Lois, I apologize in advance for this."

I engulfed myself in my fear.  The fear of dying, the fear of losing the ones of I love, even my fear of large insects and spiders when they crawl on me, of clowns, and I tried to focus it outward.  It must have worked because soon, one by one, everybody was screaming in fear.  I opened my eyes.  Nobody knew what was happening to them, but it brought China White and her remaining thug down enough that I was able to confront them without them putting up much of a fight.  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the thug try and point a gun at me, but I was quicker.  I picked up my Glock and shot him dead.  I picked up my katana and I quickly advanced across the room.  I sliced through Mom, Dad, and Aunt Lois's restraints, but by that time China White had regained some of her composure.  She advanced on me, but Dad joined the fight and soon it was a two-on-one fight as the three of us fought.  This woman was a really tough foe!  Sometime in the ensuing fight, I caught a glimpse of red and blue and China White was gone.

Superman.  I looked around and saw Mom.  She must have pressed her panic button.  We all have a panic button in case we need a little bit of help from Superman.  

Now that all the fighting was done, I truly took a moment to see what I had done.  I was standing near a window and as the power flickered back on, I saw myself.  There were streaks of blood that wasn't my own on my face and clothes.  I looked back at my family.  They were shocked.  I killed not one, or two, but  _four_ people.  I am fifteen and I killed four people!  I began to hyperventilate.  

I don't remember much of what happened after that, but when my mind came back into focus, I was sitting on a couch in the living room with a quilt Grandma Martha made for me around my shoulders with Mom and Dad on either side of me and Artemis at my feet, gently nudging me with her nose.  I looked at Mom and Dad in turn.  They were worried, but also relieved that I was seemingly out of my state of shock that lasted almost an hour according to them.  

"I killed those men," my voice sounded scratchy.

"They would have killed you," Dad tried to comfort.  Gently, he tilted my head up and looked at my neck.  "And it looks like one of them almost strangled you."

"I have Artemis to thank for saving me there," I said, looking down at my blue-eyed dog fondly.  Dad laughed and stroked her behind the ears.  I leaned forward and put my face in my hands.

Mom and Dad put comforting hands on me.  

"What happened in the dining room?" asked Aunt Lois's voice.  That's a question that I am still trying to answer.

"I don't know," I replied honestly.  "I was so scared of losing all of you and--and..."

"We felt your fear," Mom deduced.  

Realization dawned on me.  "Oh, God, I'm a meteor freak, aren't I?"

"Channeling your emotions might not necessarily be a bad thing," Mom reassured.  "If you were able to make everyone feel your fear as strongly as you did, who's to say that you can't make them feel other emotions?"  Oh, God, she was really excited about this.  "Think about it--you can make people feel several basic emotions."

"I don't exactly have an expert in the field to call a teacher," I grumbled.

"Clark didn't have a Kryptonian to teach him how to use his powers," Dad pointed out.  Wait, I thought he'd be apprehensive of me being a meteor freak.  He freaked out when Mom's powers came back.

"I helped him with his super-breath," Mom pointed out proudly, if not smugly.  She sighed and tilted my face towards her.  "We'll help you through this, Jonathan."

I sighed and nodded tearfully.  I regarded them both.  "How do you two do it?"

They stared at me blankly.

"Do what?" asked Dad.

"How do you two kill and live day by day like it doesn't gut you up?" it was a question that had been nagging me for as long as I can remember.

"Son, it guts us up all the time," argued Dad.  "I go to bed every night having to remind myself that the people I kill died so that others could be safe."  He gripped my shoulder.  "I can't tell you that this day won't haunt you for the rest of your life, but just remember that me, your mother, Lois, and even you are alive because of what you did.  And you need to keep that notion in your life.  Whenever there comes a time when you have to take a life, just remember that doing so saves another life. The day that you stop caring about other people is the day that truly become a monster."  

Sobbing, I hugged him and Mom joined the hug.  I lifted one of my hands and I motioned for Aunt Lois to join the hug.  I basked in the comfort of my family's arms.  

Looking back now, I'm still having trouble sleeping, but I am happy that my family is okay.  With the help of John Jones, Chien Na Wei's memory was modified.  Now she has no memory of Mom and Dad's identities or even that the night occurring.  Most surprisingly, Clark, who is like the Justice League's unofficial moral compass had no admonishments prepared for me.  He thanked me for saving our family.  Although, I think that he might not have been referring to all of the family.

Maybe I did do a good thing.

Maybe I have to be willing to kill sometimes.

I just hope that I don't lose my soul because of it.  I hope that I can still be the person that my family loves.  


	10. Chapter Ten

 May 2028

 

Dear Diary,

 

In the following weeks after I discovered my meteor power, with the help of Mom, Dad, and Clark, I have been working on honing my power.  It's kind of hard to explain, but I can make people feel certain emotions.  Basic emotions, like fear, anger, joy, sadness, and disgust, are fairly easy.  It usually helps if I am feeling a measure of that particular emotion, but it's not impossible to channel a feeling that I am not feeling.  

The first thing that Mom did with me was try what I guess could be called a few basics.  After I explained in as much detail as I could about what happened with Chien Na Wei and her men, she and Dad tried a few simple things.  On a weekend day when I was through with my homework, Mom and Dad sat me down in a circle in the living room and Mom told me to try and make her feel something.  It was not as simple as any of us thought it would be.  All Mom wanted me to do was make her or Dad feel joy.  I strained myself, but nothing happened.  I got frustrated, but Mom and Dad were patient.

Mom called Clark and he breezed in to offer some help.  He's an alien.  Even if I knew how to trigger my powers at the time, I'm not sure if they would have any effect on him.  Though, somehow, even if some things have no effect on him, he is really good at offering a few pointers that help.  Maybe it's because of who he was raised by.  I wish I could have met Jonathan Kent.  Everybody tells me what a wonderful man was.  Well, almost everyone; Dad never met him.  Also, Mom is really helpful too.  

Clark asked me what happened that night.  It seemed at the time that I was not going to let that night go as easily as I would have liked.  Then again, I don't think anyone forgets the first person they kill.  So I told him what I told Mom and Dad.  After giving it a few minutes of thought, Clark, through some discussion with Mom and Dad, determined that what triggered my power at the time was not just how strong my fear was, but also love.  At the time, all I could say was, "Power of love, why would it be anything else?"  

Nobody appreciated my snark.  However, it soon proved to be a very helpful realization.  Nobody put themselves in danger to try and make me feel an emotion so powerfully, but Clark whispered in my ear.  He told me to think about the things I love.  The people I love.  He filled me with thoughts about all those things, and soon, without really meaning to, I made Mom and Dad feel joy.  As if they didn't already feel a slight sense of joy, but I channeled so much joy into them that I literally brought them down to their knees.  The joy I channeled into them was so strong, that they hugged me--and Clark--so fiercely, it was if they were seeing us for the first time in years.

After that, channeling emotions steadily became easier.  For practice, I made Mom feel anger.  I really should have thought that one through, because the anger I made her feel was _too_ powerful.  She was so angry that, before I could stop her, she stormed the Queen Tower and confronted Dad in the middle of a meeting.  Whoops.  He had to miss a dinner date a few days before and I guess Mom was already pretty upset about that amongst other things.  And with a little...push on my part, I brought all that pent-up anger to the surface and Mom was more livid than I had ever seen her.  Before she stormed Queen Tower, she dumped so much of her frustration on me that all I could do was cry.  I didn't commit everything she said to me to memory, but things like the pain she went through when I was growing in her belly, barely having much time for herself since I've been born, making me feel more like a burden than something that gave her reason to smile every waking hour.  She stormed Queen Tower with my bo staff and Oliver Queen needed a little help from Superman to subdue my mother.  I'm not sure what he did to calm her down, but Clark seems to be the best at making Mom feel better after everyone else had failed.

When Clark brought her back home, she apologized profusely.  I don't think she ever felt so guilty about anything and when she saw the black eye she gave me, she was almost inconsolable.  Dad, who had an even worse beating than me, gave me an earful for my recklessness, but at the same time, he thought it might have been good that Mom released all that anger that she'd been bottling up.  He then asked me to try and console her.  He thought that maybe with the help of my meteor power, I'd be able to get through to her. 

I found her curled up in the study and she tried to shoo me away.  I disobeyed and closed the distance between us and I knelt down next to her.  She felt so guilty.  She reassured me that I had every reason to hate her for the things she said to me.  I could never hate her.  I hated the things she said, but I can never hate my mother.  Who in their right mind would hate Chloe Sullivan-Queen?  Well maybe the morons whose lives she rightfully ruined as Watchtower have good reason to hate her, but that's their fault.  

Using my power, I tried to channel the love I felt into her.  It's still weird that I can literally show people what I feel.  I showed her the love I felt for her, and Mom cried even harder, but this time it was not because of her guilt.  She threw her arms around me and I told her that I forgave her for everything she said.  I apologized for the anger I made her feel, but she told me that now that all that anger had been brought to the surface, she suddenly felt like a certain amount of weight that she'd been carrying around was gone.  We hugged each other for a long time and eventually Dad came in the room and I motioned for him to join the hug.  Later, she healed our bruises, much to Dad's dismay.  

I think he would have objected the way he normally does, but I used my power to calm his nerves.

While I was getting better at channeling emotions, I was also working on  _not_ channeling emotions.  There have been a few incidents where I channeled emotion without meaning to and they weren't pretty.  One time Aimee and I got into an argument and I was so angry that I accidentally channeled it into her and the Times office at school needed a new computer.  That same day, I was forced to explain to Aimee what I could do.  I thought she would be repulsed, but instead she was fascinated.  Growing up in Smallville, she knew a few meteor freaks, so she felt she had no reason to feel that way.  In fact, she thought that my particular power was pretty cool.  She also agreed that since we live in Star City, that she would keep it as secret as possible.  Star City is not as welcoming with meteor freaks as Smallville and Metropolis are.  

Aimee actually started helping me hone my power as well.  While we were at school, one day she got it in her head that I should try channeling emotions not only into people I wasn't touching, but also people who might not have been in the room.  Taking advantage of that idea, I strode by the boys' locker room and I focused my mental attention on a guy that stood up for a date with Felicity.  I thought of something really, really disgusting, and before I knew it, I heard several exclamations of horror.  I later found out that the guy I was focusing my attention on, vomited in the showers.  I told Aimee, then my parents, then Clark about it in turn and while they commended me standing up for my friend, all they could say was, "Eeewww."

Mom was impressed with how I managed to do something like that to someone who wasn't in the room and she decided to take me to her Watchtower in Star City to see if I could do something similar with people Dad was trying to take down.  I focused my attention on the drug kingpin on one of the cameras and I managed to make him feel a sense of fear similar to what I did with Chein Na Wei's men.  However, given the distance between us, my nose began to bleed from the amount of concentration and it actually brought me to my knees.  Mom was rightfully worried and as I sipped a much-needed frappe, we deduced that I shouldn't try focusing my attention on someone so far away, even if that kingpin was only two miles away.

Eventually, I got to a point where I was able to use my power as easily as anything else.  And sometimes I took pleasure in my power.  I started working on more complex emotions and eventually, this is one that I haven't told anyone about, I can manipulate someone's sexual arousal.  I don't have to feel sexually aroused, but I can make someone else feel aroused.  I realize that that doesn't sound like much of a power.  Strippers, prostitutes, and porn stars do that for a living.  

Anyway, one day there was this guy at one of the charity functions Mom and Dad dragged me out to and he said some things about my mother that I don't wish to write down.  To get back at him, I tried something that would later get me grounded.  This man actually the host of the function and when he got up to speak to the crowd, I made my move.  I just sitting down at the table with my parents, Aunt Lois, and Clark and I thought one word.  Pleasure.  

The man stopped in mid-speech.  He apologized, but I don't think it was too hard to tell what was happening.  Especially considering the bulge that was steadily growing in his groin.  A few people seemed to notice, because there was collective groan of disgust chorusing through the place.  I didn't stop there.  The man fell to his knees and he cried out as an orgasm swept through him.  By that time, he scared off most of his guests.  My family dragged me aside and confronted me.  Fours sets of disapproving eyes and crossed arms locked me in an inescapable grip and all I could do was bow my head submissively.

Dad demanded an explanation.  I was honest; I repeated what the man said about Mom word for word and explained that I wanted to embarrass the man for disrespecting my mother.  Dad looked ready to use the man as target practice; Clark looked ready to roast him like a s'more; Mom looked angry, but like she was trying very hard to keep her tears from falling; Aunt Lois laughed out loud at what I did to the man and clapped me on the back for defending my mother.  Subtle.  After that, Mom let her tears fall, and I pulled her into my arms.  Mom is a very strong woman, but there are still a number of people in Dad's social circles that make her feel like garbage. 

Thinking about it now, I really wish I hadn't done it.  After what happened with Aimee, I think what I did could be considered rape.  I wish I could take it back.  I feel so dirty.  I can wash my hands raw and they'll still feel grimy.  

I guess all I can do now is promise myself never to do it again.

Moving on, I have been thinking about Mom and her feeling left out at social circles.  I remember once I was talking it over with Clark and his best guess was that it was like she was in high school all over again.  In high school, they were two of a kind--outsiders.  And those times when they weren't getting along, it was the loneliest the two of them had ever been.  They raise each other up.  Now Mom is married to a billionaire and sometimes these functions are a little too cruel for her.  I mean, of course Dad isn't trying to hurt her feelings.  He drags her out to them because he is proud that she is his wife, or so that is how he explains it.  Mom drags Clark out to them when he's available because he's her best friend and having both her husband and her best friend helps her battle through the gossip and the tabloids.  Shouldn't she be able to do all of that with just Dad?  And why am I dragged out to these functions?  Is it not just because I am their son?  Clark thinks that I make their world brighter all the time, that having me at charity functions and social galas and even outdoor society luncheons makes them more bearable.

They grounded me for how I stood up for Mom, but Mom later thanked me for standing up for her.  She thought what I did was weird, but also confided that it might come in handy next time a few society women were badmouthing her.  I might just take up on that suggestion.

Moving on from my powers, lately Aimee and I have been growing closer and closer.  She's the closest friend I've ever had, even if she isn't aware of my parents' identities, and I've always been able to rely on her whenever I need a smile put on my face.  I think that she thinks she hides it very well, but a few months' into our friendship, I could tell that she had a crush on me.  I've seen her go on dates with other guys here and there, some of them ending quite nicely, but I could tell she likes me.  And when she asked me to go out to Homecoming with her, that spark I saw in her eye kind of confirmed everything.  Why I never brought it up with her, well I was waiting for her to make her move again.

I discussed it with Mom and Aunt Lois and eventually, through endless teasing, they got me to admit that I had feelings for her too.  They were like a cheerleading duo chanting "Johnny loves Aimee!  Johnny loves Aimee!"  To make things more embarrassing, Dad walked in on what was happening and after some explanation, he grabbed a couple couch pillows and joined the chanting.  Only after I promised to make a move did they stop.  I had my doubts.  What if our relationship didn't work out and we stopped being friends altogether?

Clark answered that question saying that if he had overcome that stupid milestone, he and my mother might have been in a relationship.  At least for a while.  This sounds totally stupid, but it might be possible that Clark has feelings for my mother.  Wait, going over this entry, it's possible that they might have feelings for each other!  It sounds ridiculous, I know.  I need to get my head out of my ass and stop grasping at clues that don't exist.

Moving on, news of Spring Formal circulated through the school, and as usual the girls in my class dropped unsubtle hints that they wanted me to ask them out.  There were only two girls who didn't do such a thing.  Felicity and Aimee.  Felicity, I know her well enough that she didn't drop any hints, not because she didn't like me or that she thought I didn't like her, but because our bond has become more brotherly and sisterly.  Aimee, she didn't drop any hints because she knew that that would only annoy me and make me feel uncomfortable.  I texted Mom and Aunt Lois and they sent me a video offering me a vote of confidence and encouragement, even promising to take me out for one of our "girls' night outs".  I don't know why they call it that, but I love those days when it's just me, Mom and Aunt Lois out for a day or night of fun.  

At the end of the school one day, I found Aimee in the Times office and closed the door behind me.  I could almost feel her tensing up.  I was tense and nervous too.  I got straight to the point.  I asked her if she had any plans for Spring Formal.  She swallowed hard and it took a few minutes for her to find her voice.  

"Not at the moment," she replied, her voice mingled with nervousness, excitement and sheer joy.

"Nor do I," I told her with a smile.  I couldn't control myself.  My emotions must have spread to her, because I saw her eyes glisten.  She must have felt the feelings I held for her.  

"Jonathan Queen," I stared at her.  That was the first time she called me Jonathan since the day we met.  "Are you asking me out?"

I studied her.  For the first time in the longest time, she actually looked like a girl.  A girl with the same desire as any girl to be cherished.  To feel beautiful.  To feel wanted.  My smile brightened and I didn't even have to say the word yes.

"I'd love to go with you," she said with one of the biggest smiles I've ever seen on her.  I still don't know if it was scary or beautiful.  A little a bit of both?

"Great," was all I could say.  I checked my watch.  "Now, I'm gonna get home before my good karma runs out."  I left her smiling and I could help the little skip in my step.  

When I got home, the first thing my mother and cousin once-removed that I called my aunt asked was how it went.  Once I explained it to them, they were like a couple of teenage girls instead of forty-something-year-olds as they squealed and jumped up and down with me.  They made Dad agree to let them help me pick out my tux instead of him.  Poor Dad, but given the circumstances, I welcomed having a woman's touch.

As much as I wanted there to be purple in my tux, Mom and Aunt Lois made me agree to a black and white tuxedo.  They promised me that Aimee knew me well enough that she would most likely offer me a purple boutonniere again.

I'm ready for Spring Formal now and it's just about time for me to go and pick up my date.  Wish me luck?  Maybe I should take a baton with me in case the evening goes south the way it did at Homecoming.  And I might be in California, but still it doesn't hurt hope for no natural disasters. 

Time to go.

 


	11. Chapter Eleven

July 2028

Dear Diary,

 

How do I describe the past couple of months?  

 

I guess I should start with how Spring Formal went.  I'm not sixteen yet, so I didn't get to drive Aimee to the dance.  I'm already a decent driver and between the lessons from Dad and Aunt Lois, I know how to drive in some _very_ bad situations.  I even know how to disobey the speed limit and not make a mess.  Well, Mom is very helpful where that is concerned.  I can't count how many times she has had to hack into the city's traffic light system to make high-speed chases a little easier.  But, despite the skills I might have developed so far as a driver, I have no license yet.  

Even so, I guess there was nothing wrong with me being the back seat of a Rolls Royce when it came time for me to go and pick up my date for the dance.  The entire trip there, I was group-texting back and forth with Mom and Aunt Lois.

 

_Mom: Everything okay sweetie?_

_Me:  I'm a nervous wreck_

_Aunt Lois:  Don't be nervous_

_Me:  Is that my mother's cousin or is that the General's daughter giving me an order?_

_Mom:  LOL_

_Aunt Lois: >angry emoticon< >annoyed emoticon<_

_Aunt Lois:  Was Clark this nervous at your Spring Formal, Chloe?_

_Mom:  Actually, he was anything but nervous_

_Me:  That doesn't boost my confidence, Mother_

_Me:  Did you even know Clark was an intergalactic traveler at the time?_

It was a few minutes before Mom replied.

_Mom:  No; I didn't find out about Clark's abilities nor his heritage until during and after my senior year respectively_

_Me:  Given everything he can do, I'm surprised he had an easier time hiding his abilities.  I'm fifteen and already Aimee knows what I can do._

_Aunt Lois:  Does she know who your parents are?  Does she know who Clark is?_

_Me:  No and no_

_Mom:  Then cheer up, my Purple Arrow!  Your ability is nothing to be ashamed of and if you ask me, it just adds character_

_Aunt Lois:  And the fact that Aimee didn't shy away from you when she found out what you can do should be enough to show you how much your friendship means to her._

_Me:  You two are awesome_

_Aunt Lois:  :D Nothing like having a Sullivan and a Lane in the family_

_Me:  I am a Sullivan.  But I sure hope that that is not the only reason why I am awesome_

_Mom:  No, but it is definitely a large contributing factor_

_Me:  I'm at Aimee's now, so I'm going to have let both of you go_

_Aunt Lois:  Oh, okay, but please look at the photo we are about to send you._

Seconds later, Aunt Lois sent me a photo of the two of them with their heads pressed together, their tongues sticking out, winking and Aunt Lois offering me a devil-horn hand gesture.  My mother and my first cousin once-removed.  Are they role models in my life, or are they like sisters I never had?  They seem to take up both roles simultaneously sometimes, and they do it really well.  I texted them promising to send them a picture of Aimee in her dress (actually, Aunt Lois threatened me with a really good ass-kicking if I didn't send a photo) and they promised to take me out that weekend if everything went well.

The car came to a stop in front of Aimee's house and I stepped out.  I checked my phone.  Even Dad and Clark offered me votes of encouragement.  Actually, Dad held Artemis up to the camera and she had her head back in what I knew to be a howl.  Her howl is still in its juvenile stages and it sounds adorable as ever.  Clark was busy helping Batman deal with a toxin the Joker spread through Gotham, so he was still in Superman-mode.

I took a deep breath and stepped forward, closing the distance between myself and the door to Aimee's modest house.  When I came to a respectable distance between myself and the door, I knocked softly in the way I always do.  Not so soft that no one would hear me, but not so hard that I sound like an unfriendly visitor.  During Homecoming, Aimee had walked out the door before I even reached it and now I am actually being given the chance to be a gentleman.  It was Aimee's dad who answered the door and if I wasn't stand up straight before, I promptly stood up a little straighter.  

Roy Marek is a good guy, but it took awhile for a him to look at me as something other than a snob.  Maybe it's because of my dad's history with the Luthors or if it's just how he views rich people in general, but when Aimee first invited me over for dinner, things were a little tense.  I had already established an acquaintance with Aimee's mother, but I soon found out that it was going to take much more than one meeting for her dad to warm up to me.  According to Aimee, he is a wonderful person who loves his family very much and is generally good with people, but after what happened with him and LuthorCorp, it left him more or less embittered.  Throughout our first meeting, and every meeting after that, I have done my best to show that I am a respectable person.  

Sometimes, I get sick and tired of people judging me because my family's shared bank accounts are eleven digits long.  Even Mom has been building her personal fortune.  Sometime after I was born, Mom restarted the Isis Foundation and eventually it went from being a small setup in Metropolis to being a nationwide organization and, through numerous donations, it has made Mom a millionaire.  After Lex Luthor became president, using the country's fear of metahumans and meteor freaks, the Foundation was nearly squashed, but after his impeachment, it quickly rose back up and is now a respected organization.  Even if a few more or less influential people express disapproval.  

I smiled at Mr. Marek and asked him if Aimee was there.  He regarded me coolly and I did my best to hold his gaze.  Thankfully, I was rescued by Aimee, who came around and practically shoved her father aside.  I stared at her.  If the dress she wore to Homecoming was beautiful, this dress was out of this world.  To this day she denies it, albeit playfully, but she was solely trying to impress me with this dress.  Once again her dark hair that she never let grow past her shoulders was piled on top of her head with a few loose curls, only this time she let herself have a few bangs.  If that, plus the long earrings weren't enough, her dress was amazing.  By that time, I knew a bit more about dresses.  This silky dress was an A-line gown with a floor-length and the V-neck straps hugged her breasts without making an outrageous display of her cleavage.  The neckline went most of the way down her chest stopping an inch or two short of her sternum and while the curves of her breasts were obvious from the proper angle, the dress offered a bigger spectacle of her bosom rather than her cleavage.  Small, but intricate swirls of beads went along the bodice of the dress with some of them extending below to the skirt.  

And the dress was a deep shade of violet.  

"I was wondering when you were going to pluck up the courage to walk up to my door," teased Aimee.

I was a little embarrassed for a moment, but soon I laughed.  "Well, I had a decent confidence boost from my mom and Aunt Lois.  Even Artemis gave me an encouraging howl."

Aimee laughed and hid her face a little.  Oh, great.  My best friend was feeling self-conscious.  I had my work cut out for me for the evening.  One way or another, I was going to make sure Aimee knew just how beautiful she was.  I stepped forward a little and placed a delicate finger under her chin and tilted her face up.  I don't know why, but spreading my emotions where she is concerned is as easy as breathing and I could see a great amount of that self-consciousness evaporating as I told her how beautiful she looked.

"Yeah?" was all she could say.  

Then there the gruff, "Ahem."  Way to kill the moment, Roy Marek.  Aimee and I straightened up and cleared our throats as we met the gaze of Mr. Marek with his arms crossed.  I can spread emotions, but I cannot hear thoughts or feel the feelings of others the way I can make others feel what I am feeling, or feel something that I conjure up in my mind.  Even now, sometimes I would really appreciate the closure of knowing if Mr. Marek treats me the way he does because just doesn't want to show that I have gotten on his good side, or if he just genuinely dislikes me.  He must be aware of what good people both my parents are and he should be aware of how much I have tried to show that I mean no disrespect to him or his family, so why doesn't he at least point an honest smile in my direction?

Aimee came to my rescue again.  "Daddy, J.Q. and I are leaving now."

Mr Marek turned to his daughter.  "I want you home at eleven and not a minute later."

Aimee smiled at him and hugged him.  "I'll be home at ten-forty-five."

"I'll hold you to that," replied her father as he returned the hug.  I have to admit, I am a bit jealous of that gesture.  Lately, it feels like my dad has been hugging me less and less.  I'm kidding myself.  Dad's just really busy and his business trips, whether as Oliver Queen or as the Green Arrow, sometimes keep him away from home for long periods of time and when he gets home he's just really tired.  

Aimee and I left and on the way to the high school, I offered Aimee a wrist corsage.  This one was purple and the boutonniere she offered me was white.  How's that for a color swap?  We talked along the way and I think I deliberately went out of my way to make her smile.  I love her smile.  I daresay that it rivals my mother's, who has the most beautiful smile I have ever seen.  The same smile that everybody insists I inherited, but I could never have a smile quite like my mother's.

I'm very happy to say that Spring Formal went a lot better than Homecoming did.  No natural disasters, no bullies, no crime lords, no mishap.  At the school, Aimee and I danced enthusiastically to the music.  She didn't seem to know as much about dancing as I do, but she can keep up with an energetic swing dance and a modern tango.  I didn't bring it up, but I think she might have taken a few lessons so that she could be a decent dance partner for me.  Eventually, as per my discomfort with being in a large crowd for long periods of time, I left the gym to take a breath.  I'm not in band and nor do I take any of the music classes at school, but I do know where the music room is.

I sought it and therein I found what I was looking for.  The school's Baldwin piano.  I walked over to it and ran my hand over the polished keys.  I tested one of the notes.  I wonder if the school pays anywhere near as much as my dad pays to keep the piano in tune.  I doubt it.  I couldn't help myself.  I sat down at the piano and my need for music swept over me like the water when you first jump into a swimming pool.  My fingers danced along the keys and I filled the dark room with the swirling winds that music can bring.  My emotions pulsated within me and I was sure that if there was anyone in the room at the moment, they all would have been weeping with sheer joy to the point of agony.  I started slow, sped up, and slowed down again and every chord became a beauty of its own as I wove them together into a melody that, if I were Clark, I probably would have floated off the ground from the symphonic beauty I created.  Slowly, but agonizingly, I brought the piece to a close that I'm sure felt like a farewell as it would probably never be the same again.  I guess that's the beauty of an improvisation. 

As my fingers left the keys, I panted.  I wasn't out of breath, but it sure felt like it.  It was then that I finally realized I was no longer alone in the room.  My eyes found Aimee.  She must have followed me here at some point.

She shook her head.  "Pianist, meteor freak, really good fighter...man of mystery you are," she mused with a bright smile.  "Is there anything you can't do?"

Quite a few things actually and she knew that, but I humored her.  "I know I can't walk out of this school without sharing a slow dance with you."  This room was far enough away from the gym that we couldn't exactly hear the music coming from the gym.  I pulled out my phone and Aimee laughed I selected a song we both enjoyed.  I set the phone on top of the piano and I offered Aimee my hand.  She rolled her eyes and took it.  Slowly we swayed to the song and I felt unbelievably content as Aimee rested her cheek against my chest.  Though her cheek didn't stay on my chest forever.

Eventually she lifted her head and I gazed down into her hazel-brown eyes.  She was so beautiful.  I always knew she was beautiful, but how had I waited so long to fully embrace it?  I knew she had a crush on me, but this time I saw just how much I meant to her.  Slowly, she closed her eyes and lifted her head and I couldn't help but close the distance.  Our lips touched and my mind was obliterated.  She tasted minty.  I feel like I should have pulled back, but the kiss quickly went from a simple brush over her lips to something way more.  Her tongue slipped out and my lips parted, allowing her access to explore my mouth.  I took up the opportunity to do the same and our tongues tangled together to the point that my only thought was we had stopped being friends and became something more.  

When we finally broke away from each other, we were breathless.  We stared at each other for several minutes.

"Great, now I'm angry with you," I exclaimed, throwing my hands up in the air.

Aimee's eyes widened tearfully and she whispered, "What?"  When I told Mom and Aunt Lois about it later, they said the exact same thing, though angrier.

"How come you never told me what a good kisser you are?" I demanded with a devilish grin.

Aimee's features quickly warped from hurt to playful annoyance and she punched my shoulder.  It actually hurt too.  Mom and Aunt Lois later told me that I deserved it.  I think I agree.  "I hate you, J.Q.," I think Aimee tried to sound fierce, but a smile was cracking at the corners of her mouth.  "But maybe I should remind you more often.  You're not too bad a kisser yourself." 

I laughed and Aimee sank into my arms again.  

Later, when we were ready to leave, we agreed to give it a couple days to see where we were at with our relationship, but I could tell that we were in a good place.  When I got home and I told Mom and Aunt Lois about my evening while sharing potato chips and onion dip, they were so happy they were basically jumping up and down on my bed.  None of us were expecting me to make it  _that_ far with Aimee that evening.  

As promised, they took me to the beaches in LA that weekend.  Living northern California, I don't enjoy too much of southern California, but I do enjoy the beaches down there.

I think maybe Mom might have been a little jealous of how well my Spring Formal turned out.  Very invasive on my part, but recently I found photos from her Spring Formal.  That pink dress she wore was beautiful.  And strangely, the girl in the photo seemed like a completely different woman than my mother.  This girl in the pink dress looked happier than I have ever seen my mother.  Why doesn't my mom seem as happy as the girl in the photos?  Why do the photos of my teenage mother show me a happier person than Mrs. Chloe Sullivan-Queen?  Why is it that starting in 2009, photos of my mother show a less content Chloe Sullivan?  I asked Dad, Aunt Lois, and Clark about things that happened before I was born and each gave me very curt answers.  Another one of those things I worry I am going to have to find out on my own.

On a more positive note, Aimee and I have had a great summer so far.  I'm not too sure how much is different between us.  We've always been close and she has always been comfortable with wrapping her hand around my elbow.  Maybe holding hands is somehow considered a more intimate gesture.  We still tease each other mercilessly and we call each other almost every day.  I guess all that's different is that we are kissing each other and referring to each other as boyfriend and girlfriend.  Looking back, I want to kick myself for ever thinking that Aimee would go from being the girl that respects my space to being uncomfortably needy.  We know when to leave each other alone and we know when to not listen when we say "I don't wanna talk right now."  She doesn't even make fun of me for keeping a diary.

That is one thing I really enjoy about her as I am sitting here now.  Today we went hiking and found a pool.  After wearing ourselves out with swimming and enjoying the waterfall that ran into the pool from a height that was safe to dive from, we stretched out on a rock and just rested, basking in the afternoon sun.  She seems to have an easier time dosing off on a moist rock than I do.  I might sound smug by saying this, but I have awesome girlfriend.

Now I'm going to put this away before Aimee is tempted to read some of this.


	12. Chapter Twelve

September 2028

 

Dear Diary,

 

Superman is gone.  Or so that is the headline that has circulating through just about every newspaper and broadcast in the country and phrased in every possible way.  Some say that he was killed (no).  Some say that he retired (not far off there).  Some say that he went to look for Krypton as satellite images showed possible signs of the destroyed planet (very unlikely).  Some say that he found love and decided to settle down and begin a family (mostly the gossip column and my family wishes that were true).  Some even say that he was captured and is now stuck in a lab somewhere being experimented on.  One would think that after movies and television shows showing humans being experimented on by aliens that it would be considered very hypocritical when it's the  _humans experimenting on aliens_.  Or most cases people with meteor powers being experimented on.

Superman  _is_ gone, but so is Clark Kent.  Nobody knows where he is.  It's been a month and everyone is trying to find him.  Naturally, the first place anyone looked was his Fortress of Solitude.  He wasn't there.  Mom believes that he is still on Earth, but Dad is doubtful.  Using the Watchtower satellite, we tried to find Clark, but we never found him.  So, either he is skillfully hiding his location, or he is not on Earth.  Either way, Boy Scout doesn't want to be found.

Who can blame him?  He's grieving.

Last month, the Justice League suffered an unbelievable tragedy, particularly where the Queens, the Lanes (mostly just Aunt Lois) and the Kents are concerned. 

Martha Kent passed away at seventy-six years of age.  She and Clark were visiting my house for a family cookout and that night, she passed away in her sleep.  The morning after, I found Clark in the bedroom Grandma Martha was sleeping in and it didn't take me long to figure out what happened.  Of course Clark would have been the first to notice that the only mother he ever knew had died.  I screamed.  I screamed for Mom, for Dad, for Aunt Lois, and soon everybody had gathered in the bedroom.  Mom and Aunt Lois cried.  I cried; she was the closest thing I had to a grandmother.  Dad tried to keep it together, but he smashed a cereal bowl.  Clark...no tears, no outburst, no words...he just looked...broken.  When Mom and Aunt Lois tried to comfort him in turn, he made no movement.  He didn't even meet their eye.  

I couldn't tell if the anguish I felt was spreading to everyone or not.  This was tragedy we all felt without me sharing my own grief.  

The last time we saw Clark was at Martha Kent's funeral.  It was a beautiful day in that Smallville cemetery.  No rain, or snow, or nasty weather that is way overused in movies and television to set the tone of a funeral; it was sunny.  It was in the eighties and many people were visibly sweating in their mourning clothes.  Not Clark, of course.  He doesn't seem to feel heat and cold the way most do.  Maybe it should be considered sweet that Martha was buried next to her husband?  Everyday I question my belief in the afterlife and in God, but personally I don't see how burying a lifeless body next to the body of the person they loved makes any difference.  Maybe it's for the people they leave behind.  

If I close my eyes, I can see Grandma Martha's smile.  I can smell her unparalleled cooking that Clark very closely rivals.

At the reception, the Kent house felt...ugly.  That yellow house always brought wonderful feelings of joy and it glowed with the promise of smiles, laughter...and awesome cookies.  No, at this funeral reception, I think it would have been appropriate to repaint the house and everything in it a shade of grey.  Even Aimee and her parents were invited to the reception.  They were well acquainted with the Kents as well.  In that small house, I sat behind the upright piano and filled the house with every sad and hopefully uplifting song I knew.  Given my love for the instrument, Mom pays someone to keep the piano in the Kent house in tune.  I think my indulgence was too much, because soon many guests began to weep and Mom whispered to me that it was time to stop.  Sometimes, I can't control my power.  Especially when I lose myself in the piano.  

Mom and Aunt Lois tried to console Clark, but before anyone could offer words of comfort, he vanished.  All he left was a piece of paper with four simple words,

 

_Don't look for me_

 

Of course, that was disobeyed.  I remember overhearing Mom mutter, "At least he didn't leave saying 'Clark Kent is dead'."  

What's the story behind that?  Did Clark die and come back to life?  Did the disembodied entity that everyone calls Jor-El grow tired of Clark's unwavering faith in humanity and trap him in a prison while he replaced him with what he felt to be a better and less disappointing version of him?  I could write a book filled with all of my unanswered questions.  Some I have gotten answers to.  Some have gotten me in trouble either with someone I care about, or even with a few business people between Star City and Metropolis.  And there are some that nobody seems to want to give me a straight answer to.

Either way, Clark disappeared and whether he's grieving or not, he is not letting any of us in.  He's not letting the people who care about him help him through his grief.  Worse still, Clark has always been good about visiting at least once a week and emails everyone frequently, and now not even that.  

Lately, when the four of us eat dinner together, the only sounds are our utensils.  Mom is barely speaking.  Aunt Lois isn't trying to brighten up my day with her wit.  Dad is spending less time as Dad and more time as the Green Arrow.  In fact, he's spending more time as the Green Arrow than he is as Oliver Queen.  If Clark  _and_ Superman stay away much longer, Dad, Watchtower, Black Canary, Batman, and everybody is going to have a burnout one by one as they try to log in the extra hours in the absence of the man in red and blue pajamas.  

Eventually, I decided that it was time for me to take matters into my own hands.  Aimee doesn't know my family's secrets yet, but I let her know that I was going to be gone for a few days.    

Mom and Dad are going to be so angry with me, but I feel that this is necessary.  I gathered my gear--my black and purple jacket, my bow, my katana, my collapsible bo staff and I felt that Artemis could come along for the trip.  I found out where Mom keeps that key to the portal in the Kawatche caves months ago and, it was difficult, but I managed to sneak it away without her noticing.  

Finally, I left Mom and Dad a note.

 

_Sorry I didn't say this to you person, but I knew you both would have objected.  I'm going Boy Scout-hunting and I'm not coming home until the Boy Scout comes with me_

 

_Love you both_

 

_Jonathan_

 

I'm on the Queen jet en route to Metropolis right now.  It took quite a bit of bribery to get the pilot to fly me to Metropolis.  I am a Queen, so he answers to me, but he also answers to Oliver and Chloe Queen.  Mom taught me too well in the art of hacking.  I hacked Mom and Dad's phones, so they cannot contact the plane or really anybody outside of the Star City limits.  I can picture their livid faces way too well and I like they are in the cabin with me.  Scolding me.  At least I picked a week that I have virtual classes, and I have my laptop, so I'm really not missing any school.  That has to count for something, right?

Mom might not have found Clark in the Fortress, but I'm bringing something that ought to persuade that stupid A.I.  


	13. Chapter Thirteen

October 2028

 

Dear Diary,

 

I disabled Mom and Dad from making phone calls outside of Star City and might have made sure that they couldn't get onto a plane (I froze their accounts just long enough for me to get to Kansas, but reactivated them once I touched down in Metropolis) but I why didn't I do the same to Aunt Lois?  The nice thing about flying in the Queen jet is Artemis didn't have to be in a crate.  I just had to make she was on a short tether when the plane took off and landed.  I ran into Aunt Lois at the airport and found out that she had caught the earliest plane out of Star City.  Being scolded by Aunt Lois Lane is scary.  She gave me an expected rant of how my parents are not only very angry with me, but are also worried sick, and how she is to get me on a plane back to Star City "by any means necessary."

I told her that I was determined to get Clark to come home and she cut off my own rant by telling me that Mom and Dad didn't say when she had to get me on a plane back to Star City.  I called her a smart-ass and she laughed.  Though I worried that Mom and Dad might throw her out of the house for utilizing that clever loophole.  (Actually, I overheard her talking to Mom a couple days ago that she was given a job offer and found an apartment...in Gotham.  That's going to be a very painful goodbye.)  Lois offered to help me get Clark back.  I still don't see them getting romantically involved, but Clark and Aunt Lois have an unquestionable bond.  Or maybe Aunt Lois just wanted to keep me company.  We rented a car and talked almost all the way to Smallville.  

How was I going to get Clark to plug back into the world?  I had a plan, but I didn't share it with Aunt Lois, but to tell the truth, it was a crazy plan.  I asked her about Martha Kent.  Of course, I knew her, but I didn't know her as long as Mom and Aunt Lois did.  Aunt Lois smiled fondly and sadly as she reminisced.  She told me plenty of stories about Grandma Martha as we drove to Smallville.  Grandma Martha gave Lois a place to live when she was kicked out of college and she needed a place to stay while she finished up her high school credits.   I couldn't help but laugh at how she and Clark griped with each other.  One story she shared that I found particularly funny was a time when she and Clark escaped from the General and, just to annoy and embarrass him, she walked into the bathroom with him wearing nothing but one of his shirts because "it was the only thing she could find that was clean."  That's quite understandable in my opinion, but Clark was very embarrassed and when Martha saw that they were in the bathroom together, with Aunt Lois absolutely unashamed, Aunt Lois took her eyes off the road just long enough to give me a very good impression of Martha Kent's wide-eyed shock.  No wonder Clark's a prude.  Grandma Martha was understandably distant from Lois in the fact that she was protecting Clark's secret, but she became a mother-like figure for Aunt Lois.  

And I love how much she teased Clark.  I feel like I should feel bad for Clark, but I really just don't.  Teasing Clark Kent is an art!  It's a need that's probably on the same level as protein.  Once somebody knows Clark Kent, teasing him becomes a thirst that needs to be quenched.  I know I've teased Clark in my own time.  Dressing him up as Cupid being the least of them.  Aunt Lois loves eternally for that.  As if she didn't love me eternally before.  Seriously, though, there should be holiday dedicated to teasing Clark Kent.  Maybe not.  Three hundred and sixty-five days is way too long to wait to tease Clark.  

Of course now Clark is missing and it's kind of hard to tease him when he's missing.  Of course, no one lives solely to tease Clark.  I wasn't hunting for him so that I could tease him; I was trying to bring him home to the people that care about him.  It's easier to get him to spend time with people since he lives at the Watchtower loft, but he was missing and I had pretty drastic idea of getting him to come home whether it's to Metropolis, Smallville, or Star City.

Eventually, we made it to the Kawatche caves.  I asked Lois if she remembered to pack something warm to wear.  Lois gave me a quizzical look.  Yeah, stupid question.  Another good thing about using the Queen jet is I don't have to worry about my gear being detected at a security checkup.  I think they would found a fifteen-year-old carrying recurve bow with razor-sharp arrows--some of them kryptonite--a katana, and a collapsible bo staff across state airlines quite questionable.  Lois and I grabbed our gear and with Artemis in tow, we went into the caves. 

They hold special significance for my godfather, but the Kawatche caves are really not all that impressive to me.  And I have been to a few caves, not just the Batcave and the Kawatche caves.  My favorite caves in the Midwest are not in Kansas.  Probably one of the prettiest I've been to is in Ohio and that was more of gorge than a cave.

Deeper we went into the unimpressive caves and I smirked at all the cave drawings that are all but burned into my memory.  A riveting story they tell and surprisingly more fact than myth.  It doesn't take long to find the doorway to the portal.  I think it made Artemis nervous, because she began to growl softly.  I shushed her.  Aunt Lois sneezed.  Now I think of it, it's probably not a bad thing that she is moving to Gotham.  At least she can stop investing as much on allergy relief.

I fished out my key and we went into the secret room.  Or not-so-secret room, really.  When we reached the stone tablet within I exchanged a look with Aunt Lois and my dog.  "Up for a little trip?" I asked.  This portal trip was never a comfortable experience.  Flying with Clark is more comfortable than going through that damn portal.  

"As I'll ever be," Aunt Lois mutter.  I wasn't sure if animals could make the trip as humans could, so I hauled Artemis in my arms as Aunt Lois stuck the key in the little slit.  Flash of light, lots of weird symbols, and then we were the Arctic.  I'm really glad I remember thermal wear.  At least Artemis seemed to be enjoying the snow.  Aunt Lois and I stared up at the icy fortress in the distance.  

"Did I ever tell you that when I saw a picture of this, I thought it was where Santa Claus lived?" I asked Aunt Lois.

Despite the chill, Aunt Lois laughed.  "No, but your mother told me about a time when Clark took up the role as Santa Claus to take care of one of the Daily Planet's toys for tots charity."

"Did he wear a white beard and red suit with black boots?" I asked.

Aunt Lois thought about it.  "That's a question  _I_ would like to know too.  Now let's get going."

I whistled for Artemis and she took a break from playing in the snow to follow us to the Fortress.  Clark really ought to hire a painter to come and do a portrait of this place.  Better yet, the Fortress of Solitude would make an awesome Lego set.  I haven't gotten my Legos out in a long time, but I haven't gotten rid of them either.  We went deeper into the Fortress and I couldn't help but call for Clark.  No answer.  Besides, if he was there he would have been easy to find.  The fortress isn't exactly colorful enough to make a good place for hide-and-seek.  Artemis sure found the place interesting.  She went so far as to mark her territory.  In a spot near the console.  Given the location, it think that was the first time Aunt Lois and I ever truly laughed about when that dog relieved herself.  

"Good girl," I told her.  "Maybe making a mess in this place will actually  _GET CLARK TO COME OUT AND RECONNECT WITH THE WORLD_!"  My holler scared both Aunt Lois and Artemis.  Sorry, ladies.  Then the most unexpected thing happened.

"Kal-El wishes not to be found," said that monotonous, Yoda-like entity that served as a poor excuse of a father figure.  Aunt Lois motioned that maybe I ought to back off, but I wasn't done.

"Yeah, we've been getting that message for a month now, but he has people love him and miss him and I am not leaving here without Clark!"

"You are a spirited one, much like your mother," droned Jor-El.  I allowed myself a smile at what I took to be a compliment.

"Thank you, now wherever Clark is, I would greatly appreciate it if you prompted him to come home," I requested as politely as I could, despite my frustration.

"I have tried to persuade Kal-El to come back, but he has disobeyed me."  Okay, I was not expecting that.  "Kal-El grieves for his human mother and has no desire to return."

Oh, God, this A.I. had a really bad habit of stating the obvious.  

"Coming from an intelligence with no body, and being someone who trapped Clark in a pillar of ice, replaced him with a more perfect version of him, _and_ left a giant scar on his chest, you seem to have given up too easily," countered Aunt Lois.  This Jor-El maniac left a giant scar on Clark's chest?  When did _that_ happen?  How many Worst Father of the Year awards has Jor-El earned?  Does he look look forward to them?

"The woman Kal-El once hoped to share his life with," despite the monotone, I think that was more of a smirk.

Aunt Lois faltered a little and I reached out and squeezed her arm gently.  

"We weren't to be," she said tightly.

I have had it by then.  "Fine, Jory, if you aren't going to persuade Clark to come back then I will."  I pulled out my bow and selected a kryptonite arrow.  Aunt Lois was reasonably startled, but didn't stop me.  "Bring Clark back, or this arrow going into this console and I don't care what happens!"

"You are a bold one, boy," I still smile to myself as I think of the small hint of alarm I heard in the A.I.'s voice.

"No, no, no," I disagreed sweetly.  "I'm a just a boy who will do anything to get his godfather back."  I aimed my arrow at the console.  "I'll give you the count of five.  One..."

"Stop," the A.I. said simply.

"Two..."

"You are a making a grave mistake."

"Three..."

"Um, Johnny...?" came Aunt Lois' voice.

" _Four_..."

A gust a wind and I smiled.  I turned and my eyes landed on Clark...in black.  Did this stupid alien need to be reminded again that black just isn't his color?  I quickly stored away the arrow and rushed over to meet Clark.  I threw my arms around him.  Even Artemis was excited to see him as she jumped all over him.

"Good timing, Smallville," said Aunt Lois.  Clark and I broke away from each other and I rolled my eyes.

Clark smiled warmly, if not a bit forcibly.  I know Clark well enough that that was more out of grief than his tension with Lois.  To be honest, lately they tease each other, but there is no awkward tension between them.

"Think you can take us a someplace a little warmer?" _hopefully Smallville or Star City?_    

He might be strong, but he only has two arms to he couldn't carry all three of us at once.  He took Aunt Lois, then Artemis, then me.  When the world stopped rushing past me, I think Clark took my request a little too seriously.  Aunt Lois was stripping off a few layers and I did the same.  Well, at least just our thermal clothes.  The clothes we wore under that weren't too stifling.  

"Is that your superhero costume?" asked Clark.  

I glanced down at my outfit and I suddenly felt a little self-conscious.  I wore the lightweight black and purple jacket with the hood, my black leather tunic and black pants with the form-fitting boots over them.  Plus the layer or two of thermal clothing.  "Somewhat."  

"So far I like it better than your dad's," my godfather complimented in earnest.  Yeah, well right now I just really want to get out of it.  

"Where are we?" asked Aunt Lois, echoing my thoughts.  We were on the porch of a really nice cabin, in front of us was a breathtaking view of green, a river flowing into a spectacular waterfall, tree-covered mountains.  None of them were snow-capped so I guessed were weren't somewhere terribly high.

"West Virginia," replied Clark simply.  So we were the Appalachian wilderness.  Clark never even left the States.  At least he picked a beautiful place to wallow.

"Why haven't we been able to reach you?" I ask accusingly.

Clark went into the cabin and came back out with a device.  Aunt Lois and I exchanged a look before settling our eyes on Clark.  "A signal jammer?" she asked.

Clark shrugged stupidly.

I rolled my eyes.  "Any plans of coming home soon...or at all?"

Clark went to the railing of the porch and stared out into the view that was separated by a cliff a few yards out.  "I don't know."

"Is that the best you can come up with, Smallville?" asked Lois.  "So what're you going to do, are just going to continue to ignore everyone who cares about you and sulk in this beautiful patch of nowhere?"

"How do you think Grandma Martha and Jonathan Kent would feel about that?" I added.  Even as Clark rounded on me with a deadly glare, I held his gaze.  "Did they raise the Man of Steel to abandon everyone when he lost both the people who raised?"  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Aunt Lois grab one of my kryptonite arrows in case she needed to defend me.  Clark stared at me for a long time and looked very much like he was ready to roast me like a marshmallow.  Finally, I saw his eyes glisten and I wrapped my arms around my godfather as he shook with sobs.  Aunt Lois came and wrapped her arms around us too.

"There are still people in the world who care about you Clark," I assured him.  "The world needs you; we need you; _I_ need you."  The three of us broke away from each other.

"If you're not ready to put on the red cape, can at least be ready to come home?" asked Aunt Lois.  In response, there was gust of wind, followed by lots of _wooshing_ before Clark appeared in front of us again.  

"What'd you just do?" I asked.

"I took my belongings back to Watchtower," replied Clark.  He smiled solemnly.  "Maybe I can come home."  He moved to grab us, but Aunt Lois stopped him.

"Actually, take us to the Kawatche caves?" Clark cocked his head.  "I left a rental car there!"

"But could you drop Artemis off at my house?" I added.  When he gave me an exasperated glance, I added, "I don't want to put her on a plane again!"

Rolling his eyes, he scooped up Artemis who was napping on the porch and blurred away.  Not two minutes later, he returned for us.  He hauled us up and flew us back to Smallville.  He was going too fast for us to really enjoy the view, but slow enough that our eyes didn't end up in our feet.

Now Aunt Lois could get me--and Clark--on the Queen jet back to Star City.  Clark asked why we didn't just let him fly to Star City.  As if he had to ask; we just wanted his company!  For the most part, Clark was particularly quiet during that plane ride while Aunt Lois and I alternated between trying to talk to him and playing video games on the plane's TV set.  

When we did land in Star City, Mom and Dad were waiting for us.  Aunt Lois and I got out of the plane first and my parents made it perfectly clear how I had them worried sick.  They even went so far as to considering taking away my plane privileges altogether, but that must have been when Clark finally stepped out of the plane.  They stopped talking immediately.  They were stunned.  Given the circumstances, I don't think that this was one of those times where Mom would have jumped into Clark's arms the way she usually does after a long absence.  Clark slowly closed the distance between himself and my parents and they just stared at each other for a long time.

Mom reached up and touched Clark's arm in that special way they do and Clark let his tears fall.  He sank into my mother's arms and Dad gave Clark's shoulder a brotherly squeeze.  My family shared an intense, but deeply emotional moment.  

"Let's go home," I said and everybody agreed.

"You're still in trouble, you know," Dad reminded me on the way home.  "But since you brought Clark back home, I guess we can only ground you for three days since you did hack our phones."  I grumble.  "But we are pleased with your hacking skills.  You might even make your mother look like an amateur."

And the arguing began.  

Clark's still adjusting to life without his mother, but at least he's letting us in now.  Superman is still on hiatus, but Clark will get there eventually.  He always does.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jonathan's costume is obviously somewhat inspired by the Dark Archer's outfit in Arrow, but hey J.Q. can follow his dad's footsteps without wearing something similar. And I never intended him to be an incarnation of Speedy/Arsenal/Red Arrow. Jonathan Sullivan-Queen is his own character, much the way his mother is.


	14. Chapter Fourteen

November 2028

 

Dear Diary,

 

It was almost a month after I convinced Clark to come home before he made his comeback as Superman.  During that time, at least, Clark mourned the loss of his mother, but at least he let us in.  I tried my best to be there for him, but as deep as the loss of Martha Kent went for me, I didn't know what it was like to lose a mother, so I couldn't relate to him as well as everyone else.  For a couple of weeks he stayed at our house in the bedroom that we always kept clean and ready for his use.  I guess it's better alternative than being at Watchtower where we would have keep flying back and forth to see him.  

It still amazes me that after that tower was rebuilt, it went back to being an Earth-based Watchtower and since it was convenient, it also went back to being an apartment.

Clark spent a lot of time with Mom and Aunt Lois.  They knew Martha the longest and they helped each other through their grief and by the time Aunt Lois was ready to leave for Gotham, she seemed to be in happier state.  Not me.  I liked having her around.  I liked going to her for dating advice and coming up with ways to tease Mom and Dad.  Before she left, she gave me her own extended goodbye by taking me out to my favorite restaurant as an early birthday present. 

Several times I watched Mom and Clark laugh and smile as they shared memories of Grandma Martha.  They are so open with each other that wonder if I'll ever have a friendship with someone that strong, much less a friendship that has lasted as long while overcoming just about every obstacle that was placed in front of them.  They are there for each other when they need them the most.  That's special.  Dad held Mom as she cried over Martha's death, but as good of a listener as he is, he was very respectful and understanding about giving her and Clark space to share their grief.

Poor Clark had confided over dinner once that he wasn't sure if he would be able to be Superman anymore.  Mom objected to that, saying that Martha would be disappointed in him for feeling that way.  Everybody suffers tragedy at some point in their lives, but we all have to move on, don't we?  

Quite honestly, I don't think Clark would have put on the red cape again if it weren't for a very good motivation.  A couple of weeks ago, I was up early on a Saturday morning and just out of habit, I flicked on the news as I toasted a bagel.  What I saw on the news had me nearly choking on a sip of almond milk.  I left my half-finished glass of almond milk, only taking my bagel with me as I ran up the stairs to the master bedroom.  I didn't even bother to knock as I burst into my parents' bedroom.  Given the weekend, the two of them were still asleep and were understandably annoyed about being startled awake.  At least they had their pajamas on or else it would have been years of therapy waiting to happen.

Their annoyance quickly evaporated when I grabbed their TV remote from Mom's nightstand and flicked on the news.  Superman made his return.  Mom and I teased him later, asking him if he was just trying make a good impression, but he rescued a plane.  According to the news, it was being used to piggyback a space shuttle to an altitude where it would have detached and sent it on its way into space, but the detaching mechanism malfunctioned and the plane was nearly hurtled into space with it, but Superman saved the plane.  Mostly.  For some reason, he thought it was a good idea to stabilize by grabbing the wing instead of the fuselage, as he told us later, and naturally the wing broke off eventually and made an bigger mess.  He learned his lesson and safely guided the wingless fuselage to the ground, or rather in the middle of Metropolis Sharks football field.  I daresay that excited the crowd more than any of the touchdowns put together.  He paused long enough for a few cameras to get a good look of his face, but much to the amusement of Mom, Dad, and I, he flew off before any reporters could harass him.  

Not long after that, we got a phone call and Mom answered and put the phone on speaker.  It was Superman and he was wondering if Mrs. Chloe Sullivan-Queen was willing to interview him.  Mom exchanged a look with Dad and I, taking in our expectant looks.  

"I thought you'd never ask," Mom replied laughingly.

The "Superman Returns" article by Chloe Sullivan quickly became front page news in several newspapers across the country, if not all of them.  On explaining his disappearance, Mom simply wrote that he "suffered a loss." 

I thought it was ridiculous, but there was a huge amount of "Welcome back, Superman" parades and other craziness that circulated throughout the country for almost a week following Clark's return.  Clark seemed to enjoy it for the first day or two--everybody likes to be appreciated once in a while right?--but after that, he joined the Queens in the collectives grumbles that screamed for the hope of the madness to end.  It was actually one of the few times Mom made a point of avoiding the news.  And she lives for the news.

Besides everything that went on with Clark and his Superman alter ego, things have been going pretty well for me. 

Aimee and I agreed that we weren't ready to consummate our relationship and I'm okay with that.  Although dizzying makeout sessions are something we frequently indulge ourselves with.  I still can't get her to tell me that I'm anything more than a "not-bad" kisser.  That's really annoying.  Then again, she can't get me to tell her that she is anything more than a ridiculously gorgeous bookworm.  But teasing each other is not all we do.

She's still my best friend and we are very open with each other.  We know each other's favorite colors (mine being purple and hers being blue).  We are almost always each other's first choices of emotional support when our respective parents or authoritative figures are giving us a hard time.  She found out my secret of being a masked archer who wears purple and black gear a few months ago and she was awed.  Since most of my face was covered except for my eyes which were only hidden beneath a cowl, I wondered how she figured it was me.  The purple arrows and trim on my outfit, the shape of my body, my body language altogether.  I was impressed that she managed to figure all that out purely based on those facts.  At least I didn't have to keep that big secret between us anymore.  I still wonder if it wouldn't be a bad idea to share my parents' identities.

Beyond that, Aimee confided in me once that she aspires to pursue a law degree.  When she asked me what I want to major in, I hesitated.  My dad put the skill of archery in me, my mother put the love of journalism and my insatiable curiosity into me, they both put the spirit of a fighter into me...but what did _I_ want to do?  I asked Aimee what qualities stick out in me.  

"Besides your stupidly handsome looks, your snarky attitude and your habit of sticking your nose where doesn't belong?" she had asked.  Yep, that's another bad habit Mom gave me. 

I crossed my arms and pursed my lips.  

She laughed and told me that she picked up on how well I am able to reach out to people.  How well I observe people.  Actually, it might be because of that quality that I have been told more than once that I give really good gifts at birthdays and Christmas.  Plus, I do try to make people feel like they matter.  On numerous occasions, I have made an effort to be a friend to people that seemed rejected by the larger crowd.  With many of my peers, it has made me come off as a people-pleaser, but Mom proudly compared it to the days when she was an underqualified therapist working for the then-fledgling Isis Foundation.  Aimee told me I ought to consider therapy.  Maybe so.  I can psychoanalyze every twerp that me, my mom, and my dad either shoots, kills, or puts into a jail cell.  Sometimes I find myself psychoanalyzing the behaviors of those around me without giving it much thought.  

As far as my powers go, Mom calls me an "Empath", but is it really empathy if I am influencing the emotions of others on what I guess could be called a magical level (or mutant level whatever) rather than feeling the emotions of others on that same level?  Not that I can't show empathy, I just don't think that it's a very appropriate description.  I have definitely utilized my power as a weapon.  

Star City High is full of crooks.  A few nights a week when I am finished with my homework, I put on the same outfit that Clark saw me wearing when I confronted that stupid AI, Jor-El (minus the thermal wear of course) and take cares of a few morons around the neighborhood.  I usually only go out if I have a lead on something, but things tend to happen at the school.  And I have a curfew, so I have really play out for time.  I also have to be very careful, because I worry that if Mom and Dad were aware of my extracurricular activities, they would take all my gear and my weapons and lock in box that only Clark can open.  Every time I go out, some part of my mind can feel Mom and Dad biting their nails hoping that I am safe and scolding me, telling me that I am too young to be doing this and the only missions I am permitted to perform are the ones that they ask me to help them with...which in Dad's case means staying close to him and "not doing anything stupid" and in Mom's case, her telling me things I already know as I become the eye in the sky with the help of Star City's Watchtower computers--or Metropolis's computers if Mom is in town at the time.

My friends found out about my activities a few months back and we are all sworn to secrecy.  Even a group of teenagers can keep a few secrets that have nothing to with porn everything associated with teenage rebellion.  I'm being precocious again.  Whoops.  Anyway, about three weeks ago, one of my Purple Arrow visits to my high school bore unexpected (and unwanted) fruit.  With the help of Felicity and Aimee, I got word that some students were cooking crystal meth in the basement of the school and I decided to do something about that.  

I'm not stupid enough to borrow some of Dad's trick arrows, so I was limited to what I could do with normal, yet razor-sharp, arrows.  Artemis, who is very helpful helpful sidekick on my patrols, and I found the meth lab, but first I found a girl being harassed in a storage closet.  When I pictured walking in a girl without her clothes on, bondage and obvious signs of non-consensual sex were not what I had in mind.  Despite my discomfort, I focus every bit of fear and thoughts of pain in to that guy's head and, after taking moment or two to enjoy the trauma I was bestowing upon him I reached out to Artemis with my mind the same way I do with people and I gave her the go to have her way with him.  I discovered a while back that, while I can't channel emotions as complex as a person's into my dog's mind, I can channel simpler ones that also to some degree make certain commands more possible.  I can channel a calmness in her that lets her when to be a friend.  I can channel a certain amount of aggression into her that lets her know when to be a beast.  She's my beast and she can lovable or vicious.  Just don't mess with her pack.  

I commanded her to stop before she caused anything fatal and I looked at the guy.  I recognized him as one of my smarter classmates from chemistry.  Looks like he went from nerd to a Christian Grey-wannabe turd.  I don't use that term much, but it rhymes.  I cut the poor girl loose with arrows to each of her restraints and I recognized the girl when she came into the light.  A senior named Carrie Cutter.  I didn't like the way she looked at me and Artemis didn't have any good feelings about her either even without my influence.  Or the fact that she took longer than necessary to thank me before she even found and put on her discarded clothes.  I told her to go home.  She listened, but not before she blew me a kiss.  I remember thinking, "Touching, but I am in a committed relationship with the most gorgeous girl in school."  I would later come to wish I said those out loud.

Artemis and I found the meth lab near the boiler room and I destroyed it.  Unfortunately one of the students cooking meth died too.  That was Artemis.  The guy pulled a gun on and Artemis saved my life.  Good girl.  Also destroying the meth lab also meant that there was a fire.  I managed to make it out of that place before the fire department arrived, but I came home to Mom and Dad with crossed arms and angry looks.  Crap.  At least they liked my outfit.  That has to count for something, right?  Mom looked all over to make sure I didn't have any injuries.  A couple bruises, but nothing serious.  

"How long have you been doing this?" demanded Dad.

I confessed six months.  I thought he was going to take away all of my stuff, but instead he smiled and clapped me on the shoulder.  He was impressed.  I was too shocked and relieved to say anything in return.  They just made promise that when I go out as the Purple Arrow, that I let them know, maybe let Mom guide me with her Watchtower computers once in a while?  I obliged.  

For obvious reasons the school was closed for some time to repair the damages and to investigate as the police found traces of crystal meth.  That didn't mean classes stopped.  Virtual classes were still going on.  As time went by though, I discovered I picked the wrong girl to save.

Carrie Cutter is nuts!  My Facebook page was covered in an uncomfortable amount of declarations of love and several letters in the mail addressed to me came from her.  Aimee isn't the jealous type, and at first she teased me because of this girl's infatuation with me, but that teasing soon turned to apprehension and protectiveness as it became clear that this girl was crazy.  Carrie even showed up at my house one time when Mom and Dad were away and I had the house to myself.  She came in a trench coat and practically begged me to unwrap her.  She said we were written the stars.  We were made for each other.  She seriously needed therapy.  I told her as much and things got ugly.  

At first I tried calmly to ask her to leave and think it over, but then she pulled out something sharp and hurled it in Artemis's direction.  Now she was on my bad side.  Thankfully, more for her sake, she missed, but grabbed her and indiscriminately dumped all my disinterest into her mind.  She seemed rightfully hurt, but my point was made.  She finally left and I called Aimee, Felicity, Dig, and my parents to be careful in case this girl took her jealousy to the next level. 

As nervous as I was about this girl, it did nothing to damper my excitement for my sixteenth birthday two days from my encounter with Carrie. 

Tomorrow I'm turning sixteen.  What am I going to get?  What is the surprise party that everybody thinks they are hiding from me going to feature?  Also Mom has a secret. She thinks she is hiding it, but I know what is and my only wonder is when are she and Dad going to tell me?  Great, now I am so excited that I am not going to get any sleep.  

Damn it.


	15. Chapter Fifteen

December 2028

 

Dear Diary,

 

My birthday was great.  The "surprise" birthday party was a little elaborate, even for my taste but I enjoyed it.  Dad paid one of my favorite bands to perform at the house!  White chocolate fountain, caterers, all my favorite snacks, they even set up the house's espresso bar--a feature that Dad had built specifically for Mom and I.  Basically, it was a coffee shop-themed birthday party and I loved it.  Also, everybody was kind enough to limit the guest list to just people we knew.  It turned into a pretty sizable crowd.

And the presents.  Dad got me a car.  A black Audi R8 and, even though Mom felt that it was a little too fancy for a first car, she was excited for me.  Mom got me a new, more powerful computer and I quickly added it to the room where I have an elaborate computer setup.  It's not Watchtower-powerful, but I can play video games and do everything else I want to do, minus Watchtower business, on them.  Clark, ever the one for the simple, yet very special stuff, got me a fancy digital scrapbook.  He knew how much I love photography and he wanted me to have something I could document all of my photos into.  Felicity got me a few limited addition vinyl records that had to have been hard to come by.  She told me that she took her time finding them, not simply ordering them online.  I hugged my bespectacled friend.  Aimee got me an ornate arrowhead-charmed necklace.  It was a black obsidian arrowhead skillfully wrapped in silver netting at the end of a silver chain.  Mom and Dad were particularly impressed by that present.  Dig couldn't make it to my birthday, but he did send me a limited release video game that he, Aimee, Felicity, and myself would soon get very sucked into over the following weeks.  Aunt Lois, her present actually being on time, sent me something that I had to open away from most of my guests.  It was a collapsible bo staff, except the ends of this one were electrically charged like a vicious stun baton.  Mom and Aimee (who knows my identity, but not my parents' identities) thought it was cool.  Dad was worried.  Clark was...I don't know, but he seemed a little worried that I was losing some of my childhood innocence.  At least I follow a code of ethics even if it means having to be willing to kill if necessary.  

We all thought over my strange present for a minute.  Surely she can't have gotten me this purely on her own.  Wait, was she seeing Bruce Wayne?  Later, we asked her and, much to the annoyance of Mom and I and the amusement of Dad and Clark, she refused to disclose any information about that.

I received quite a few more presents from the guests who came to my party.  Most of them I really didn't care all that much about and a few of them were not even my taste.  Carrie Cutter showed up and tried to make a move on me again and this time she came in a very beautiful purple dress.  Thankfully, Mom quietly removed her before things got out of hand.  She and Dad initially teased me regarding her, but by then they figured it was time to file a restraining order.  At least to keep her away from the house. 

I only just turned sixteen and I didn't have my license yet, but when I did get it a couple of weeks later, I took Aimee for a drive in my new car.  I will admit, I was nervous about driving a new car, but once I got behind the wheel I was perfectly fine.  In fact, over the course of this month, I've realized that no matter the situation, no matter what mood I am in when I get into the car, I can never stay in a negative mood behind the wheel.  Even in high-stakes situations when I am driving a van helping Dad with one of his patrols, I am calm.  Even when I am being shot at.  It's weird, but it makes driving less of a hassle.  Dad's also been teaching me to ride a motorcycle and hopefully soon I can get my license for that as well.

A week after my birthday, I finally confronted my parents on what they were hiding from me over dinner.  At first they tried to deny that they were hiding anything but then I gave them what they call "the look."  Arms crossed, fingers drumming on my arm, lips pursed, eyebrows furrowed a little and head cocked.  I gazed expectantly at them both and then looked at Mom's belly.  A few weeks ago, I overheard a conversation between them so I knew I had my facts before I put what I knew out in the open.

"Mom when were you going to tell me you were pregnant?" I shouted gleefully.

Mom opened and closed her mouth several times but no sound escaped her lips.  She exchanged a look with Dad who looked just as dumbfounded by my revelation.

"Um, we were going to tell you," he confessed.  I cut off his babbling by rising from my chair and burying my mother in a hug.  She laughed and hugged me back and Dad wrapped his arms around us both.  I'm going to a big brother.  I'm going to be a lot older than this new brother or sister, but I was excited and happy.  

Eventually, Mom and Dad shared the news with everyone and they shared our excitement.  Clark was busy in Metropolis when he found out and a few minutes later he blurred into our house.  He was so happy for us and, out of concern for his best friend, he suggested Mom take a maternity leave away from Watchtower and away from scouting for potential heroes.  She has mentored quite a few heroes.  Dad agreed that she should do so as well.  Mom reluctantly agreed.

While Mom has been on her maternity leave, I have been doing a little bit of Watchtower work on the weekends, but most of the time it has been taken care of by Tess Mercer and one of Mom's proteges.  When I wasn't doing homework, I've started taking care of my mother as well.  Lately the Queen Mansion has been reinforced like a fortress, so Mom is safe here.  A few times, we have had to defend ourselves against various onslaughts of thugs sent by Star City's crime bosses.  For a time the world knew my dad's identity, but earlier in my life, things got really complicated and out of concern for my safety from people who were constantly trying to hurt our family everyone decided that that had to change.   All knowledge of my dad being the Green Arrow was wiped from the media and with a few contributions by Queen Industries and Wayne Enterprises, a device was built that John Jones used to amplify his memory-modifying powers to wipe that little detail from the minds of enough people that any idea of Oliver Queen being the Green Arrow was dismissed as gossip.  Although, sometimes it's a little more difficult to hide Mom's identity.  And nobody but my friends and family are aware of me calling myself the Purple Arrow.

Actually, a couple of weeks ago, I was in Metropolis and Clark offered me to assist him on a mission.  I was so excited!  He needed help with some Kryptonian and I had a few kryptonite arrows to use.  Plus, I was able to modify the bo staff Aunt Lois gave me so that when I needed it to, it charged with kryptonite instead of regular electricity.  Given how easily Kryptonians are weakened by kryptonite, it wasn't a very long fight.  I wonder if Clark's over-protectiveness had something to do with that.  Having me do something that would be somewhat easy.  

Everybody treats me like I am made of glass.

This month it has mostly been just Mom and I as Dad has been away on business.  He emailed a few times the first couple of weeks he was away, but they have grown more sporadic.  Clark comes and goes, checking up on my mother.  I think it gets on her nerves, but at the same time Dad appreciates him doing so while he's away on business.  Sometimes, just to put a smile on Mom and I's faces he sends silly photos of the Green Arrow and some other hero that he assists while he's in Europe.  The emails are secure of course so that the wrong people don't see who the Green Arrow is sending his emails to.  

As the Christmas season came along, Mom and I grew excited for Dad's return.  He did return for about a day when the holidays began, but sadly and annoyingly he had to leave for another one the next day.

 Aunt Lois surprised us by joining us in Metropolis.  Clark was feeling lonely as it was his first Christmas since his mother died and we wanted to keep him company.  More surprising yet where Lois is concerned, was who she dragged along with her.  Tall--taller than me, but shorter than Dad and Clark--dark, resonant and the only person I know who broods more than Clark mopes...Aunt Lois brought home Bruce Wayne.  So she was in a relationship with Gotham's finest.  

"Mom?" I quietly asked one evening.

"Yes, sweetie?" she answered, looking up from her laptop as we sat in the study.

"What is it with Aunt Lois and superheroes?" I asked genuinely.  "Dad, then Clark, now Bruce Wayne...?"

Mom gaped at me, the gaped again, and again.  I smiled and then she smiled and soon we both laughed.  

"That's a really good question," she finally said between her laughs.  "She does seem to fall for superheroes.  She was even attracted to Arthur Curry briefly."

I sighed heavily.  "Oh, Aunt Lois."

"What?" Mom and I jumped.  We were so caught up in our amusement that we didn't notice Aunt Lois had entered the room.

She looked at us accusingly.  "Are you guys making fun of me?"

Mom and I hastily blurted out several forms of "no."

Aunt Lois just rolled her eyes and plopped down onto a chair, opened a book and ignored us completely.  

On a happy note, she does seem to be in happy place with Bruce.  She said they got together at a charity ball hosted by Bruce.  She got in because of her press pass and from what I could gather, it sounded like interviews turned to flirts and one too many glasses of champagne.  Bruce told me that she was so rotten drunk that she called his butler, Alfred, Methuselah.  That wasn't very nice.  And of course, Bruce was sober the whole time.  Bruce Wayne is one of the few people I know who almost religiously stays away from alcohol.  Maybe that's why he tends to be better than my dad in terms of athletic ability.  

They took things slow, but romance blossomed between them and I am happy for my mother's cousin.

Christmas Eve came along and as excited as we all were for the holidays, Dad hasn't come home yet.  Dad is a busy man, but he never ever misses holidays and birthdays and if he does (which almost never happens) he calls and says he won't be able to make it.

At the latest news, Mom and I held each other as we panicked and Aunt Lois, Bruce and Clark had to calm us down.  The Queen jet landed in Metropolis, and the last anybody saw my Dad was the airport terminal.

I think my dad is missing.

 

 


	16. Chapter Sixteen

February 2029

 

Dear Diary,

 

It's been two months.  Two months and nothing has come up about my dad's whereabouts.  Worst New Year's Eve ever, that's for sure.  Mom, Bruce, Clark, and Tess Mercer quickly got busy using every resource they could to try and find Dad.  We can't even decide if it was a kidnapping or if it was something else.  The last time Dad was kidnapped, before I was born, Mom offered herself up in exchange and faked her death while she blackmailed the Suicide Squad into working for her.  Cunning, but quite a bit of a shame since it was at the expense of having to turn her back on everyone she cared about.  It must have been very lonely for her, being cut off from her best friend who she was just starting to repair her relationship with, her cousin, and the love of her life.  

News quickly spread about Oliver Queen's disappearance and Mom and I became targets for the press more than usual.  Much to our mutual displeasure.

"Are you worried about your husband?"

"Have you filed a missing person's report?"

"Has there been any progress in locating your husband?" (or "father" if I was the one being asked the question)

"Has any ransom been demanded?"

"Are you seeing someone?" that question directed at Mom regarding her misunderstood relationship with Clark, who has been checking up on my increasingly pregnant mother, earned me  _very_ bad press.  It was the first time I ever punched a reporter.  Mom chewed me out for that incident, but just as quickly, she embraced me and we shared a tender moment.  We were both very worried about my dad and the press wasn't doing us any favors.

The tabloids got the idea that I was a temperamental juvenile with anger management issues.  I can be temperamental.  Given my newfound spotlight in the press, some have invented the idea that I am caught in a love triangle with Aimee and Felicity.  I consider both to be my closest friends, but it's Aimee who is the girlfriend for crying out loud!  Felicity and I have a movie night every so often as friends do, but tabloids print what they think will sell and whether it is legitimate fact or just rudimentary gossip is of less concern.  

To make things weird, that same reporter I punched wrote that I am a very good puncher.  That had some strange repercussions.  Before long, I could barely walk down the street without a passersby--men, women, and even a few children--asking me to punch them.  At school, my classmates took more care than usual in provoking me into punching them.  Some of the things they said (especially things about my parents, particularly my missing father) normally would have had me doing a lot more than just punching them, but two things stop me:  a promise to my mother and godparents to keep my temper under control now more than ever and my own desire to prevent further bad press.

For the most part, I have been very good about keeping my temper under control, but last week things got ugly.  Based on some photos gathered by paparazzi, some have speculated that the child growing in my mother's womb is not Dad's, but in fact Clark's.  At least where I am concerned, my parents are horrible liars and if Mom is able to look me in the eye and tell me that the baby is Dad's, then I believe her.  Plus, I might not be an expert in Kryptonian physiology, but I would think that it's safe to assume that if the baby was Clark's, by now Mom would be experiencing little bouts of strength, speed, and everything else that Clark can do.  I was so angry with that reporter, that when night fell, I snuck out with my gear (not my bow and other weapons, minus the electric collapsible bo staff Aunt Lois gave me and my purple and black outfit) and I tore up that tabloid office.  I planted a virus in the place's mainframe and within ten minutes every document on every computer was wiped and I was halfway through putting every printed document through the paper shredder when Superman breezed in.  

He had his hands on his hips and gave me the sternest of looks.  Who was he to judge me?  I was just defending my mother.  Though, as much as I thought he would have grabbed me and flown me home, he didn't do such a thing.  Instead he helped me!  Clark Kent--Superman and an altogether boy scout--helped me tear up a paparazzi bullpen!  I crumpled several sheets of paper into little balls and threw them while Clark zapped them with his heat vision. At least we didn't set off the smoke detector.  Who knew Superman could be such a vandal?  Actually, it was Mom who put him up to it.  

I really appreciate Clark being around whenever he can. With Dad missing and Mom being pregnant and me just trying to behave myself, Clark really knows how to lighten the load, even on an emotional level. 

Several times in my life I remember him helping my parents resolve their differences when they failed to do it themselves. Mom and Dad have become an even stronger couple because of it and eventually they didn't even need Clark's intervention. I wonder if it's one of the reasons he is a permanent guest in this house. 

As a result of Mom cutting back on her role as Watchtower due to her pregnancy, she has been growing increasingly bored. None of the newspapers she typically writes for have been sending her story offers either and that only adds to her boredom. However she has found ways to occupy her time.

For starters, she has taken over my game systems and has gotten more than a little agitated when I tried to tear her away from them.  To make things extremely pitiful, usually I find her playing Justice League games and she always picks the Green Arrow to play.  I still think it's an insult to Mom and every other head of Watchtower hubs around the country that there is no Watchtower in the Justice League video games, but then again Watchtower is an entity that hasn't been acknowledged as being anything more than a conspiracy theory by much of the general public.  I always have to fight from laughing and crying every time Mom pulls out one of the games and selects the role of Green Arrow.  She misses Dad so much that she is living vicariously through him in a video game.  Every time her character dies though, she gets closer and closer to throwing a tantrum.

She needed an intervention.  One day when Clark breezed in for one of his usual checkups on the two of us (or three of us if you count the baby in Mom's womb) I led him to the TV room we used as a game room and spread my hands in a very sarcastic "ta-da" gesture.  Almost instantly, Clark's features contorted into a look of worry that I was sure mirrored my own.  I felt so pathetic as I told him she was coping.  A moment later, he blurred away and reappeared not a second later with a pitcher of ice water.  Clark knows his way around this house like the back of his hand.  How does he do it?  If one were to consider the places that he could call "home" it would be the Watchtower loft in Metropolis (his current address), the Kent Farm (he leases it to Conner Kent) and the Queen Mansion (where he is a permanent guest.)

Clark took the pitcher of ice water and slowly dumped its contents over my mother's head, who let out a very undignified squeal.  When she turned around, Clark and I weren't laughing.  Playing a video game that has received lukewarm reviews despite its popularity is not going to make Dad reappear.  Nor is it going to make his disappearance any easier and Clark told her as much.  Mom seethed, but eventually she waddled over to Clark and hugged him tearfully.  I let them have their moment before Mom broke away from him and offered me the same bit of attention.  

The best thing we can do right now is to go on with our lives and let the Justice League and the police worry about finding Dad.  Even so, I still wake up every morning expecting to see Dad in the kitchen eating a bowl of cereal or whatever and reading the news.  Personally, I feel that if it weren't for Aimee helping me through all this on a day-to-day basis when Mom's not available, I would have gone crazy.  

Besides my coping with Dad's disappearance, my teenage vigilantism is earning me some attention.  Kids at school fondly talk about the Purple Arrow and I have even overheard people from the Student Council talking about changing the school's mascot to a purple archer.  It is very hard not to be smug about that, though not Mom.  She loves to boast about me.  

I've also been offered a place in the Teen Titans.  The current team is a bit rough around the edges.  After Dick Grayson left, it kind of went to shambles.  Last I heard, he and his wife, Zatanna Zatara were expecting their first child.  Zatanna has been a bit of nuisance in the past, especially considering her history with my parents and Clark, but it's nice that she found Dick.  Though, as he is a really good friend of mine, things might get ugly if she breaks his heart.

I turned down the offer to work for the Titans.  I have enough on my plate without having to put my mother through sending me to boarding school.

I haven't told anyone this, but I think I saw Dad yesterday.  I was out on the town enjoying a day to myself, I could have sworn I saw him as I was grabbing a coffee.  It was only for a second, but I thought I saw him and he looked terrible.  Beneath the slight cowl of the grey hoodie, he looked as if he had several bruises on his face at various stages of healing.  Life has taught me to pick up as many details as possible within a slight glance.  I tried to follow after him in the direction I saw him, but he disappeared again.  

I know Dad's out there somewhere.  He might even be here in Star City. I'm sure I, or Mom, or Clark, or some other member of the Justice League will find him somewhere. Sometime. 


	17. Chapter Seventeen

May 2029

 

Dear Diary,

 

I didn't plan on being where I am right now.  In fact, I'm not even sure why I have you with me here of all places.  I guess, with everything from Dad being missing, the media not leaving Mom and I alone, Mom being six months pregnant, and me just trying to behave myself and stay out of trouble, it's helped me almost therapeutically to keep you nearby in case I need something to pour my frustration into.  Not that I'm anywhere near frustrated right now.  In fact, I can pretty much say I like where I am right now.

Might as well talk about a few things while I'm awake and enjoying the crisp night air.

One thing that's really bothersome is that I still think I see Dad sometimes when I go out.  Mom thinks she sees him too.  Clark and Aunt Lois both try to tell us that maybe it's our minds playing tricks on us.  We miss him so much that we unconsciously dream up apparitions of him to ease our pain.  If that were true then is it that every time I  _think_ I see my father, he looks sallow and withered?  Like he had been beaten, malnourished, and tortured beyond the point of madness?  I confided in Mom and she admitted to seeing him in a similar fashion.  If we were dreaming up images of Dad, I think it's fair to say we would both be seeing better images of him.  His easy smile, his chiseled features, the gifts he always comes home with when he'd been away for long periods of time as well as the bouquet of tulips he always brings home for Mom.

Nope, none of that.  And every time I try to follow him in the direction I see him, he disappears again.  Haunted much?  It's driving me nuts!  Sometimes I am just about ready to stand on top of Queen Tower and scream, "I have had it, Dad!  Either you appear at the front door with a bouquet and a hell of an apology, or don't appear at all!"

Mom has been growing increasingly hormonal.  One minute she is giddy and bouncing up and down with giggles and the next she is inconsolably crying.  Once or twice, I tried using my powers to make her feel...content when she is the room.  It worked for about a minute or two, but then she said some very mean things to me that could put an episode of that old TV show, _Friends_ to shame.  I guess hormones are more powerful than meteor powers.  Lois helps as best she can when she visits, but the Gotham Gazette is keeping her very busy so most interactions are limited to Skype and length emails.  

Aunt Lois is still an awful speller.  It amazes me that she is such a respected journalist.  Well, her stories aren't bad, but Clark once told me that when they were working together at the Daily Planet it would take him as long as twenty minutes to correct all her typos when they would swap their stories for proofreading.  Oh, poor Clark.

A week or two ago, he was visiting and one thing Mom hasn't enjoyed about being pregnant is cutting back on her coffee.  For her, coffee once a week or less is torture.  Clark came by with her almond mocha and it was a little cold.  Even though he offered to heat it up a little with his heat vision, Mom was livid.  She threw a lump of kryptonite at him.  Hit him square in the face.  Almost immediately, though she waddled over and apologized profusely while kicking the kryptonite as far away from him as she could.  She accidentally hit Artemis with it.  Made her yelp.  That only made Mom cry really, really hard.  She loves my dog; she doesn't hurt her if she can avoid it.  Clark had a nasty gash in his cheek though.  

Although one thing she did say to him during a conversation that I thought was funny even if it was very mean was, "Oh, Clark give it a rest.  It's same spiel--pine for the woman; date the woman; break up with the woman and expect me to help you through your mopey mourning period; repeat.  I really am sorry that you and Diana didn't work out, but _I have more pressing matters to worry about_ without adding your pathetic whining to the list."

Harsh, very harsh Mother.  But still, Clark and Diana?  Superman and Wonder Woman?  A power couple for the media, but knowing those two, their relationship was doomed from the beginning.  

Clark soon countered saying that Mom practically did the same thing when she pined for him, dated him for about an hour, then became a walking contradiction as she not only insisted on staying "really good friends" but also making obvious signals that she wished they were  _more_ than just "really good friends."  Jeez, how much drama was there in their high school years?  Were not just the best of friends laughing and arguing and being there for each other?  Or were they just two stupid teens who constantly revolved around each other, but were both too cowardly to take a chance?  

Is every adult in my life a total moron?

I couldn't take their arguing anymore.  I slammed my book shut and shouted, "Will you two give it a rest!  Mom, I know that your emotions are all over the place right now, but I have had it with you two!  Do yourselves a favor and quit arguing over failed relationships and whatever patterns that might exist in both you romantic lives.  If you two can't along, so help me I will lock you both in the detention room under the Watchtower hub in Star City and throw away the key.  And Clark, you know that there is a Kryptonite cell in there, so don't give me that look.  Do I make myself clear,  _children_?"

I wonder if I looked as crazy as I felt.  I just reprimanded my mother and godfather.  They hadn't seen me lose my temper like that in awhile and I doubt they were expecting that little intervention.  They exchanged a look and both nodded.  

"Great," I told them more softly and solemnly.  "Now if you don't mind, I am going to bed." 

Oh, Dad, where are you?

Beyond my family drama, some people besides the Teen Titans have noticed my vigilantism.  Assembling my own little team, Felicity guides me the same way Mom guides other heroes when she takes up her role as Watchtower (another thing that Mom misses due to her pregnancy, but she denies it).  For awhile Felicity would guide me from the computers in the SCH Times office, but she recently showed me an elaborate setup that she created in the basement of her house.  It wasn't Watchtower-advanced, but it was good enough that she could play Big Sister in Star City.  Mostly just the high school, but she is able to look into most of the city.  I remember asking her where she got all of her equipment and how she managed to afford all of it, and all she would tell me was that a certain benefactor with the initials C.S.Q. sent her a bunch of boxes with all her new equipment in it.  If the initials weren't proof enough, the boxes had the Watchtower logo on all of them.  

Wow, Mom.  I had no idea that she was so impressed with my friend's work.  I would know if Felicity was one of Mom's Watchtower proteges, but the fact that Mom was so impressed with Felicity's efforts that she was will to endorse her, even without actually using her own name, is really touching.  Although, Felicity prefers "Overwatch" instead of "Watchtower."  Okay, I guess.  Then again, she's not actually Watchtower and as aforementioned she is not one of her proteges so it helps me mentally to distinguish them.  I hope her parents don't complain to much about the spike in their electric and WiFi bills.  I think Mom is secretly taking care of that.

Mom can be very sweet sometimes.

Dig has offered his help a few times.  Feeling like he needed his own gimmick, he fashioned himself a helmet.  Looks more like a bucket than a helmet, but given its semblance to a Spartan's helmet, I christened him "Spartan."  Trying to not kill unless absolutely necessary, through a few endorsements with the help of Mom and Bruce Wayne, I have "stun arrows."  Basically, they work just like Tasers and are non-lethal.  Dig, who is planning on enlisting after graduation, is already very proficient with firearms (mostly just in the hunting sense) and he has similar nonlethal weapons.  Mom worries about me bringing Artemis along when I go out on patrols.  She's vulnerable.  However, I utilize my powers and I make myself, Artemis, and Dig much more terrifying that we actually are.  Bruce Wayne once asked me for a demonstration and after Aunt Lois and I managed to calm him down he told me that I could give Jonathan Crane a run for his money.  Considering the fact that Bruce Wayne utilizes the power of fear himself with his theatrics and bat costume, I might make a good sidekick for him.  As much as I would enjoy living with Bruce and Aunt Lois, I'm not sure Mom would be able to handle me moving to the other side of the country.  Especially when Dad is MIA.

The fact that other people have been noticing my vigilantism, not all of my opponents are high schoolers and other morons who sell drugs, rob, murder, rape, and torment.  I've caught the attention of some of Star City's crime syndicates.  One time, I was out on a patrol in the Glades and Felicity's warning came too late as Artemis and I found ourselves cornered by a bunch of thugs.  They worked for Mr. Frank Bertinelli.  A few weeks before, with the help of Overwatch, I found and blew up a deadly drug shipment that someone had tried to sneak into the city.  The action earned me praise from Mom, Clark, Aunt Lois, and even the media who have dubbed me the "Dark Archer".  

It's "Purple Arrow," people!  I guess when my outfit is mostly black with purple outlines on the tunic and the hood itself being a dark shade of purple, "Dark Archer" fits.  My arrows are purple.  Some tabloids have named me "Jon Snow."  I showed that tabloid to Mom, then Clark and both of them laughed.  Wrong hair color; I carry a katana not a hand-and-a-half sword; I'm not a bastard; I don't living in a snowy place.  However, I thought about it and they might have made that assertion because of Artemis's coloring.  She is a mostly white wolf-Husky mix, but her eyes are not red and the brown markings on her face making her unable to be Ghost.  

 _Game of Thrones_ was a good show, though.  Mom was not happy when she caught me binge-watching it.  

So, I was ambushed and I really had to focus my powers given the number of men.  This was also one of those times I had to be willing to shed some blood.  At my command, Artemis became very vicious.  Since Dad was very concerned about the safety of my dog, who he himself loves very much, Queen Industries developed a kryptonite-based dog treat that grants temporary powers to the dog that consumes them.  Now when I take Artemis with me on a patrol, I temporarily have a bulletproof dog.  They are bacon-flavored, of course and it's better than putting an implant in my dog.  She does have an implant, but it's just one of those GPS chips that people put into their dogs in case they get lost.  Not something I wholeheartedly agree with, but Mom insisted.  

I made it look like I was willing to surrender, dropping my bow and sitting cross-legged on the pavement.  I enjoyed myself as my dog made very brutal work of those men.  Only when some of them managed to get though my dog did I join the mayhem.  Is it weird that I'm somebody who brings a bow, a katana, and a highly-electrified collapsible bo staff to a gunfight?  I guess Dad and I were born in the wrong century.  Well, Dad honed his archery skills while he was a Tom Hanks-esque castaway and I grew up learning to be a fighter.  Less noisy, that's for sure.  Also, I think it's fair to say that utilizing bows, bladed weapons, and batons invites more skill than firearms.  

Artemis and I did leave one man alive to tell Mr. Bertinelli that I had a really rough day (which was true) and if he wants me killed then he should do it himself.  From what I know about Mr. Bertinelli, based on things Mom and Dad have told me, he is a very stupid crime lord.  His hubris is so that he thinks himself more powerful than the Triad.  Also, more sadly and rudely, he arranged to have his daughter, Helena's, fiance killed.  Disapproval is one thing, but killing your child's betrothed?  I swear some crime lords have no dignity.  Some do even if they are on the wrong side of the law. 

Mom, Clark, Dad if he were here, and everyone else would likely flip if they knew about this, but I am on good terms with some crime syndicates.  Mostly because I saved his son's life, I am actually friends with Anatoly Knyazev, a leader in the Russian mob.  Quite an achievement for a sixteen-year-old.  He's one of the few people who is aware of my Purple Arrow persona and it return for saving his son, I became a member.  That's an initiation process that I'd quickly like to forget.  The only thing that was left out due to a mutual understanding was the membership tattoo.  Now, we have a structured partnership and I tolerate Mr. Knyazev's operations so long as they don't come into conflict with my family's interests.  In turn, they tolerate me so long as I stay out of their way and assist them if a matter of mutual benefit comes up.  This was a recent development, after Dad's disappearance.  I'm not sure how long I'll be able to hide my acquaintance with the Russian mob from him, especially since the latter has been relatively quiet in the city lately.

All that aside, Aimee and I have been building our romantic relationship quite nicely.  Yesterday was her sweet sixteenth.  I was worried I wouldn't be able to make it because of some journalists society gala I attended with Mom in Metropolis the same weekend.  Even when pregnant, Mom can look good in a gown.  Actually, I picked out that maternity gown for her.  She was so worried that she wouldn't have anything to wear to this event, but once we landed in Metropolis, I quickly got busy shopping.  As an alibi, I told Mom I was catching a movie with Tess Mercer, who was recently given a real body.  That was half-true.  I was with Tess, but she helped me find a dress for Mom.  We eventually found a blue gown that fit Mom, but was also made so that it didn't make a spectacle of her baby bump.  When Mom saw it, she was so happy that her eyes were brimming with tears.  Tess told me that I owe her a dinner date for the help she provided.  I intend to fulfill that promise.  After Mom and I arrived at the gala and we met up with Clark, Mom told me that I should head back to Star City.  She didn't want me to miss my girlfriend's birthday party.    

I was  _very_ late for the party.  Actually, everyone had left, including her parents who were spending the week in Florida for their anniversary and they aren't going to be home for another three days.  Yep, Aimee was born on her parents' anniversary.  Though, I do think it was a little inconsiderate that they didn't save their anniversary vacation for _after_ Aimee's birthday party.

The fact that I was late, Aimee was livid, but two things made her calm down:  knowing my obligation to my mother (Aimee is thankfully not an overly needy girlfriend) and the present I had for her.  It was a handcrafted carousel music box that played Bach's prelude in C major.  Months ago, before we were even dating, we were spending the day visiting a market and I saw her gazing fondly at a carousel set.  She never even told me she wanted one, but I know her well enough to know that she did in fact want one.  I found this one in Smallville.  

She was at a loss for words.  Actually, there were no words exchanged.  She kissed me with so much passion that my mind was obliterated.  She pried open my lips and began exploring the depths of my mouth with her cake-stained tongue.  I responded with my own passion as my own tongue slipped into her mouth.  Minutes seemed to feel more like hours as our mouths continued their torrid dance.  After a few minutes, I tried to push her away, but she whispered she needed me.  Then she took my hands and placed them on her waist, just where the end of her white blouse was and the minute my fingers found the silkiness of her skin, my mind was lost.

I feel strange talking about all the details, but Aimee steered me to her room and our passion reached a counterpoint as we swept away each other's clothes.  Aimee's body had seriously matured and her "below average sized" breasts as she called them were the most beautiful things I'd ever seen and her pale skin almost seemed to glow in the moonlight.  I remember thinking, how could she dismiss her own body the way she always does?  For a girl who tends to wear her soft-colored flannels daringly low, she is very self-deprecating.  

Our bodies pressed together and she drove me crazy under the delicate touch of her exploring hands.  I wondered if she had gotten a manicure recently.  And I'm not sure if I'll ever be able to look at Aimee Marek's mouth the same way ever again.  The things she did to me with her mouth and tongue could put every fantasy and porn video (an addiction that took me awhile to get over, mostly due to my mother's furious intervention) to shame.  I don't know if it was out of spite or the desire to give her a measure of what she did to me, but I returned the favor with a little bit of my own foreplay.  

I literally had her crying for mercy.  I wonder if she was planning this, because she happened to have condoms.  She had rolled over on top of me, trapping me in between her soft thighs.  She asked if I wanted this.  If I wanted her.  Once again I was reminded that she was a girl who had the same desire as any girl to be cherished.  I gave her my most loving smile and she slipped a condom over me.  I think we both cried out as we gripped each others hands as I slipped inside her.  I don't think there is anything that can fully describe the feeling of being inside a woman.  

As we moved, I think my powers went off because despite the building orgasm, tears of joy brimmed Aimee's eyes.  My affection for her was as clear as day.  As we reached the breaking point, Aimee cried out.  A glorious sound that I think I matched with a scream of my own.  Suddenly exhausted, Aimee rolled off of me and snuggled into my arms.

Birthdays are supposed to be about giving the birthday person something, isn't it?  And I have _taken_  something.  I stole my girlfriend's virginity.  I guess one could say that I gave her my body. So technically I did give her something besides the carousel.  I definitely wasn't planning on it, but it happened and I don't feel sorry. 

"I love you, Jonathan Queen," she whispered.  

I gaped at her and our eyes locked.  For once, I was at a loss for words.  All I could do was smile and kiss her before sleep overcame us both.  

I woke up from a nightmare a little while ago and it took me a minute to remember where I was.  I'm smiling down at Aimee's sleeping naked form.  I think I love her too.    Maybe I should try sneak in some more sleep.  

Although, I should probably check in with Mom.  Even if she is spending the night in Metropolis.  Maybe I should leave out the details regarding my current location.  

Mom has enough to worry about without whining about her son losing his virginity. Maybe she wouldn't whine. I don't feel like risking it.  At least not right now.  


	18. Chapter Eighteen

August 2029

 

Dear Diary,

 

A lot can happen in a week's time.  

I will start with the best.  Mom gave birth to my new sister!  Thea Lois Queen.  Mom felt bad because Dad wasn't there to help name her, but I'm sure he would appreciate Mom naming his daughter after his grandmother.  And of course Aunt Lois wasn't going to let Mom survive  the maternity ward without Mom naming my sister after her as well.  

I had to wait until after school to meet my baby sister.  That made me very upset.  I got the news that Mom's water broke during second period and Clark flew her to the hospital.  At least he went fast enough that no one saw him.  Then after about a half hour of labor, Mom gave birth to a healthy baby girl.  I begrudgingly waited until lunchtime to see the picture and I showed her to my friends.  Aimee and Felicity fell in love almost immediately and even Dig thought my little sister was adorable.  I told them, and I later echoed the same words when I visited Mom in the hospital and she let me hold my sister who she had wrapped in the blue baby blanket I sewed for her, that I was going to try very hard not to hate her.

Aimee smacked me in the back of the head playfully and later Mom gave me that look that said "Really, Johnny?"  Still, they knew I was excited to have Thea in my life.  Probably thanks to Mom's healing powers, Little Thea was perfectly healthy and was able to go home the same day she was born.

I could tell Mom wasn't looking forward to the loss of sleep that came with having a toddler in the house. To what would soon become a bitter annoyance, I was on baby duty as well.  I just hope that the infant doesn't start thinking of me as her father.  I'm just her sixteen-year-old brother.

Something else that happened this week, Felicity landed herself a date.  I wish I could say that me and my friends were altogether excited for her.  Tall, dark, face seemingly set in a permanent grave expression, silly perma-scruff that some ladies seem to love so much, somewhat long hair that is more or less the same length as my mother's typical hairdo, but not textured as nicely, "woe-is-me" aura...the guy's name is Stephen Dearden.  He is the new filthy rich kid on the block.

About a month and a half ago, Stephen moved in from Central City with his mother, Moira and his stepfather, Walter and he quickly became a very popular figure.  I daresay even more popular than me.  I don't mind a break from the spotlight, although this guy has more notoriety.  The most media I ever got was when I punched that reporter and he wrote that I was a good puncher.  Stephen, he has had enough sexual escapades and high-profile relationships to make one wonder if he has an STD yet.  Plus, when he moved in there was a huge party at his parents' house.  Aimee, Dig, and I wanted to sit it out, but Felicity fell very hard for this guy.  She really wanted to go, but she didn't want to go without her friends.  Might as well keep our favorite hacker (other than my mother in my case) company.  

I've never been much of a party boy and nor do I attend many parties.  Most other rich kids mock me for not having two filthy rich parents, but Stephen was surprisingly easygoing with me.  He spotted me almost immediately when me and my friends arrived at his house.  He was so drunk, I'm surprised he managed to recognize who I was.  Though he did not get my name right.

"Jaime Sullivan-Queen, the son of Star City's missing billionaire," he slurred.  My name is Jonathan, you inebriated moron.  The guy seriously needed a breath mint.  If not a twelve-step program.  

Felicity was head-over-heels in love with him and, because she's my friend, I wanted to help her make a good impression with this guy.  Even if he was drunk.  She didn't have her contacts with her, but Aimee, Dig, and I assured her that she looked really ~~adorable~~ \--no that wasn't the right word-- _stunning_ in her glasses.  Plus, she was wearing a really cute black sleeveless zip-up blouse with her dark blue jeans.  Although, I made lose the hairband.  Poor thing, she was so nervous!  Dig had to promise her her favorite pizza on the house at his family's pizza place to get her to just walk up to Stephen.  The three of us watched from a distance, and from what we could tell, she and Stephen had a lively conversation.  

"Damn, we are good," I marveled with Aimee and Dig.  Sadly, though I would later find out that our victory dance was short-lived.  I went hunting for a piano to play later that evening and I found a piano room, but I what I found within was horrifying.  I guess Stephen enjoys his threesomes.  Felicity eventually forced that revelation out of me and I had never seen my friend cry so hard.  All I could do was let her cry into my shoulder.  So after that, even though Felicity's attraction to him never faded, the rest of us became very bitter and apprehensive towards him.

Just because we were curious, Aimee and I looked him up and Stephen is quite the heartbreaker.  When he still lived in Central City, he dated a police captain's two daughters, only he forgot to break up with one before he started sleeping with the other.  Charming, very charming.  

In the media, some have argued that Stephen is becoming Star City's new "golden boy," that somehow the son of Oliver Queen has been dethroned by this Central City teenage playboy.  As if I cared.  To make things worse, there has been rumor that his parents, Moira and Walter, are planning on buying Queen Industries.  Very controversial, even to the media, as there is no evidence of Oliver Queen being dead, and being married to him, Mom is a major shareholder of the company, even if she personally has no interest in it.  Plus, it's a known fact that the company is part of my inheritance.  I'm not terribly interested in the company, but would rather not see somebody who has barely settled into Star City buy it out from under my family.  It is comforting knowing that quite a few board members are unenthusiastic of Moira Dearden and Walter Steele buying my family's company.  Even if they offered a huge paycheck.  

Most aggravatingly, as school started up again, it has given me unwanted attention and Stephen tends to very loudly talk about his family's exploits during lunch period.  One day, just to mess with him, (and at the encouragement of my friends) I used my powers on him.  I will say that I'm a little guilty about what I did.  I channeled a certain level of aggression in him and the next thing I knew, he had started a riot in the cafeteria.  First he punched a guy, then the guy's girlfriend punched him, then Stephen punched her, and that made a few other kids angry and soon people started hurting each other.  Some people, including myself, my friends and a few people that I get along with, managed to escape the chaos before we got sucked in.  On a positive note (at least for my friends and I) he was suspended for two weeks--his mother must have bribed the principal into not expelling him--and his reputation was tarnished to say the least.  In the following weeks, he had barely shown up in the gossip column with another young lady attached to him in any possible way.

Though, a week ago, I found out that he asked Felicity out.  She told me she was sure about this and even though I was very worried about her heart getting stomped on by this guy, I supported her.  To be safe, the Purple Arrow did visit him once and I threatened that bad things would happen to him if he broke her heart.  To top it off, I channeled a blinding amount of fear into him to solidify my promise.  Aimee would later ask why I didn't at least graze some of his chiseled features with an arrow, but then I asked her to think about what Felicity might do to me if I damaged her date.  

I'm happy to say that Felicity later told us that her date with Stephen went very well.

Finally, the most dramatic thing that happened this week.

A couple of nights ago, I was on a date with Aimee at a shopping mall and we were minding our own business, buying ice cream and talking about the movie we just saw and out of the corner of my eye, I saw something.  It looked suspiciously like an archer.  And this archer was pointing an arrow at me!  Thinking quickly, I shouted, "Get down!"  Not quick enough sadly.  Aimee was fine, but my body, particularly my upper torso, flared up in a blinding stab of pain.  When my eyes swam back into focus I saw that an arrow went straight through my shoulder.  Aimee was horrified and she tried to get me out of harm's way amidst the chaos that started.  As much as I was in pain, I was still able to stand.  

When I saw my opponent, I could not believe my eyes.  Green Kevlar, green hood, those pants that he always insists are not tights, sunglasses with voice changer and computer screen that allows him to analyze his surroundings more clearly and see in the dark, it was my dad.  A part of me was so happy that I was ready to jump up and down like a five-year-old and run into his arms, but he shot me!  Why would he shoot me?  In all my fantasies of reuniting with my dad, an exchange of sharp, lethal objects was not one of them.  

I was smart enough to not call him "Dad" out in the open even if people were running back and forth and even stopping to take a photo of the Green Arrow who's been missing for as long as Oliver Queen, and I asked him what he was doing.

"Killing the son of Chloe Sullivan," he replied, though I could have sworn that it sounded a little dry.  As if something or someone was making him say it.  

A snarky part of me thought, "I had no idea he and Mom were on such bad terms."  He tried to shoot me again, but this time, despite the horrible pain I was in, I was more prepared.  I had pulled out my collapsible baton.  Not my staff, that's a little too large to simply keep in your pocket.  I smacked the arrow away just as it was about to hit home.  

"You missed," I mocked with adrenaline-fueled glee.  I told Aimee to get out of harm's way and, despite her worry, she listened.  I grabbed the fallen arrow that was meant for me and, armed with a baton and an arrow, I told my father, "Let's play."

My dad and I have fought before, but he never fought me like this before.  As if the gash in my shoulder wasn't proof enough, he was actually trying to kill me!  Plenty of his missed kill shots turned into a more and more vandalized mall.  A couple of glass tables were shattered, a window displaying merchandise was shattered, a soda dispenser in the foot court had a few holes in it.  All the while, looking back now, I think I should have fought harder.  Admittedly, I was pulled my blows because I realized I had to injure my dad, but I didn't want to kill him.  A lot of my blows should have had him down on his knees in pain and I tried to let my manifested fear spread to him, to terrify him, but that didn't work either.  Something was seriously wrong with my dad and I think that it was possible that he was being controlled.  But who was the puppeteer?  Eventually, I lost my baton and Dad put an arrow into my knee.  

Why I didn't do it earlier, I pressed the panic button in my watch and just as Oliver Queen was about to end my life with an arrow in my head, Superman breezed in and whisked me away.  Particularly to my house.  Aunt Lois was visiting, meeting Thea for the first time and to say she and Mom were horrified by the state I was in would be a hell of an understatement.  

One upside to my mom no longer being pregnant is that she was able to use her healing powers on me.  After the arrow in my knee was removed as safely as possible, of course.  When Thea was taken back to her crib, the three adults gently steered me to the living room and asked what happened.  I told them that I was just enjoying my date with Aimee and the next thing I knew, Dad showed up out of nowhere and tried to kill me.  At the mention of Dad, Mom had a similar reaction to mine when I first saw him.  Missing for so many months and the first thing he does when he reappears is to try and kill me.  She frantically admonished Clark for not seeing where Dad had gone, but Clark gently reminded her that he was a little busy making sure she didn't have a son to bury.  A bit of a morbid way of wording it, but yeah.  

I wish I could say that knowing my dad was alive filled my mother and I with joy, but given the circumstances, we were more worried about if it was really Dad.  Dad wouldn't try to kill me.  Not willingly anyway.  Was it a clone?  Was he forced to by some means?  Was he brainwashed into thinking that I was a criminal that needed to be eliminated?  Later, I called Aimee to let her know that I was safe and she told me that coverage of the incident was all over the web.  A Facebook blast, "Long Lost Green Arrow tries to murder the son of Queen."  

According to Mom and Clark, the Justice League quickly got busy trying to solve this little mystery and to find Dad.  I also applied my own methods of searching for Dad.  My friends in the Bratva offered their assistance in locating my father.  I made it very clear to them that they are to apprehend him, not to hurt him.  No promises, but I have a carefully structured association with them and there is a certain level of mutual respect between us that I trust them to heed my request.  

So, yeah a lot can happen in a week's time.

And whatever is wrong with Dad, I sure hope that we are able to save him.  And I don't think Mom and I are sure if we will be able to let whatever happened to him slide without a little bit of vengeance.  Whoever or whatever is doing this to Dad, they better hope that he is able to recover, or else things will get ugly very quickly.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not meant to be a Stephen Amell bash, I was just focusing on how Arrow's Oliver Queen was as a person prior to Lian Yu. Plus, I pulled the name "Dearden" from his mother Moira in case anyone didn't remember that little detail from the show. And how can I pair up Felicity with anyone other than at least some version of her Ollie? :)


	19. Chapter Nineteen

October 2029

 

Dear Diary,

 

If Dad's goal, or whoever is controlling him, was to shed the Green Arrow in the worst possible light, they couldn't have done a better job.  News quickly spread of my encounter with the Green Arrow and I was subsequently hounded by the press.  My mother's healing powers are not public knowledge so I had to make it look like I was recovering from two arrow wounds.  Everyone thought it was a bit despicable, me pretending to be injured, walking around with crutches and bandages on my shoulder, but here in Star City, it's nice that we can try to keep at least some things as secret as possible.  Such as my mother's healing powers.  I swear, Star City is so backwards with the meteor-infected.  A few times, in my Purple Arrow patrols, I have had to save a meteor freak or two.  One of them was this nine-year-old girl who could communicate with birds.  I thought it was kind of cool, but a few neighborhood bullies, as well as some businessman who paid them off, didn't think so.

She was just a girl.  I shouldn't have had to save the poor thing from being drowned near one of the piers.  I let Artemis have her fun with some of the bullies.  With the help of some of my friends in the Bratva, I also ruined the businessman's reputation and financial status.  Now the man is penniless and held in disregard with much of the city.  

Now with my whole Green Arrow issue, I typically avoid giving the media more than "No comment," but this was one time that I felt I had something to say.  "I don't know what is going on with the Green Arrow, but given everything he has done for this city in the past, I believe it is fair to say that he would not have randomly attacked someone such as myself unless someone was forcing him to do so."  And I said no more.  However, I said enough.  Soon, the media started inventing their own ideas why the Green Arrow might have attacked the son of Oliver and Chloe Queen.  Given my choice of words and what ended up being my poorly hidden feelings, some have speculated that I am on close terms with the Green Arrow.  That's a loose way of putting it, but for obvious reasons, I have had to learn how to be a good liar and I did my best to convince the media that I was just another person that had the opportunity (or displeasure apparently) of encountering the Green Arrow.  I hope I convinced them, but the media is not known for listening to ideas if they feel they are not as good as their own. 

After my violent encounter with the Green Arrow, he--and Dad--vanished again and the Justice League started devoting much of their spare time into searching for him.  If Mom is not nursing Thea, she is constantly at her Watchtower hub here in Star City.  Given my infant sister being around, the Watchtower hub, much to the amusement of Clark, Lois, and I, is as much a nursery as it is a basement office with lots and lots of computer monitors.  Given that there's a nightclub right above it, I've never thought it was as nice as Clark's Watchtower apartment in Metropolis with that large stained glass window overlooking the city.  To me, that particular Watchtower earns its name.  When Lois is not visiting, I hear that she sometimes helps Barbara Gordon who goes by the name of Oracle.  She and Mom clash sometimes, but Mom is still the better hacker.  

Almost two months now, and nobody has come up with anything.  It's like he literally vanished.  Personally, I never thought that Dad was very good at hiding from the eye in the sky, even when he was doing it deliberately to tease Mom, so to me it's safe to say that he has some help.  It's left Mom and I with fresh anxiety and frustration.  Plus, since Mom has a baby to nurse, she doesn't do much Watchtower work right now.  Hell, a few of her regular friends at the newspapers she typically writes for have barely started offering her articles again.  

I like my new sister.  She's actually a fairly quiet baby, doesn't cry very much, but I swear that is not the only reason, nor is it the biggest reason why I like her so much.  Okay, maybe it is a big reason, but it's not the biggest.  When Mom isn't available, I read her Harry Potter books, particularly the fully illustrated versions.  Maybe it would be a bit nicer if the little critter knew the words I was reading to her, but I can settle for her just enjoying the sound of my voice.  Plus, I like to think I'm a more entertaining storyteller than my mother.  She doesn't read in a monotone or anything, but her dramatic flair is not up to par.  But she is a lot better with her lullabies.  I will freely admit that even I can drift off a little to the sound of her singing.  I hope that doesn't make me seem pathetic.

If things weren't gloomy enough with my dad being missing and wondering why he would hurt me, or why I'm finding dead criminals with green arrows protruding from them (which has been making the Purple Arrow more the hero) Aimee is not in a good place right now.

About a month ago there was an entire week and a half where Aimee didn't call or at least acknowledge my presence at school.  Not terribly unusual; she's a bit of a loner and she needs her space and I respect her space, but there was something different about this.  She usually smiles when she looks at me or greets me when she sees me, but if anything she looked broken.  Eventually I confronted her, gently.  

Tearfully, she confessed that her parents were getting a divorce.  She didn't seem angry, but nor was she sad.  This was something else.  Something in between.  She was hurt.  She was angry.  However, she was also...just broken.  

She told me that despite everything, she couldn't say she was altogether surprised.  I asked her to elaborate.  Lately I've gotten on good terms with her dad and as much as we are very open with each other, she pointedly avoids talking about her family.

Aimee and her dad are in a good place and it's likely he'll be granted full custody.  Her mom, however is a very different story.  Besides hardly ever being home for certain special occasions, she isn't really a queen of moral support.  I didn't know this before, but Aimee told me that her mom was humiliated that Aimee wasn't elected homecoming queen freshman year.  She was concerned because she had been assaulted, but Aimee had to rely on her father, Roy for comfort as her mother was clearly more upset by her not being homecoming queen.  

Apparently Aimee's mother, amongst other things, has this nearly impossible standard of Aimee being a beauty queen.  She is beautiful!  Why does she need a box full of crowns and beauty contest awards to prove it?  Her mother was a beauty queen growing up and Aimee guessed that she wanted to recreate her glory days through her daughter.  

Aimee knows I think she's beautiful and her dad reminds her that she is as well, but over the years, her mother has grown increasingly verbally and emotionally abusive.  She's gone so far as to blame her dad for Aimee not being a beauty queen by now.  

The more Aimee spoke, the more I held her to me as she sobbed.  She even confessed that sometimes my mom has been more of a mother figure to her.  That would make Mom smile.  Well, to be honest, I have seen the two of them together and they are very good to each other.

Now that I think of it, sometimes I feel that I have an unfairly perfect family.  Of course, my family isn't perfect.  My parents argue.  They could go days without speaking to each other very much and the last time I remember one of them slapping the other was when Mom's powers returned and Dad was scared of losing her.  But, even though Dad doesn't seem to be in his right mind right now and is missing, my parents love each other.  

Them getting divorced would come as a surprise to everyone. 

Sadly, the same can't be said for Aimee's parents.  She's not upset because they are getting divorced; she's upset because it had to happen.  In the following weeks, Felicity, Dig, and I have spent a little more time than normal with her, showing that we are there for her.  

Actually, last week Dig invited us to a paintball range.  That was fun.  I was such a good shot that the other team wished I was on theirs.  In fact, between Dig, Aimee, and myself we're quite a team.  Felicity isn't a bad shot, but her skills set are definitely not set for shooting.  Despite that, we managed to put a smile on Aimee's face.  

And...

Oh my...

 I hate to cut this entry short, but I just got a call from one of my Bratva buddies.  

They found my dad.  I guess it's time for a long overdue reunion, although as much as I hate to do so it might be better if I wait before I tell Mom considering the people who have Dad.  And considering my last encounter with Dad, let's pray that things don't get ugly.


	20. Chapter Twenty

November 2029

 

Dear Diary,

 

My meeting with Dad was...illuminating.

I say "illuminating," because it wasn't a particularly violent encounter, but nor was it a good encounter.  The Bratva had him in a cage in the middle of one of their warehouses and I had taken a moment to observe him before I actually came face to face with him.  He didn't look so good.  In fact he looked similar to how Mom and I thought we'd been seeing him for the past few months.  Sallow, withered, and beaten.  One of the Bratva, a friend of mine named Dmitri told me that when they found him, he was walking down an alleyway speaking to someone over the phone.  I asked if they caught what he was saying, but they said he was speaking Latin.  Too bad I wasn't there; Mom has been teaching me to be translate spoken Latin.  To elaborate on the skill, I've also learned to speak it.  I also owed Dmitri and his crew big time as it wasn't easy apprehending Dad.  One of his crew got an arrow through the stomach and is in the hospital in critical condition.  I promised they would have a quarter million in their accounts before the night was out.  I never failed to deliver before, and they knew that, but they were rightfully agitated.

Seeing Dad in that cage, he looked like a wild animal.  He kept shouting and complaining and trying to get out.  The cage was electrified to a certain degree, but even so, he kept trying to get out even if there was physically no room for him to squeeze through the bars.  I wondered if whatever was wrong with him subdued his body's response to physical pain.  To be safe, Dmitri, some of the other Bratva, and I all agreed that maybe at least for now, I shouldn't try speaking to him face to face.  

So I spoke to him from the other side of a one-way window and my voice was distorted.  I asked him if he knew where he was.  He rightly guessed that he was somewhere in Star City.  I asked if he knew who he was.  His short reply was Agent Green Bean.  I exchanged a look with Dmitri and my other Bratva buddies and we laughed with my finger still on the "talk" button.  I'm going to have to remember that one.  Addressing him emphatically by "Agent Green Bean," I asked him if the name Chloe Sullivan meant anything to him.  He answered saying that she was a threat to national security and needed to be eliminated.  I asked him to elaborate.  Apparently, Mom is a notorious terrorist orchestrating heinous crimes all around the globe and has a network of "dedicated followers with outrageous gimmicks."  Okay, the second part of that claim is pretty much true, but "terrorist" and "heinous crimes" do not fit my mother's description.  Curious as to whether he was aware of his own marriage, I asked him if he was married.  He said no.  At that, Dmitri and our friends offered me a sympathetic look.  

I asked him him if he knew anything about Jonathan Sullivan-Queen.  Dad seemed to have a lot to say, most of it obvious.  He's in high school, decent grades, his usual haunts include Diggle's Pizza, my favorite coffee shop/movie theater, Cinemaccino, even the woods behind my family's property...nothing regarding the fact that I'm his son.  Thankfully, he said nothing about my alter ego, the Purple Arrow, hopefully meaning whoever is controlling Dad isn't aware of my extracurricular activities.  He also made mention that for the son of a billionaire, I am pretty pathetic as I don't make a big spectacle of myself, causing trouble, appearing in the tabloids, and being an altogether playboy.  That stung.  Sorry, if I prefer to hang out at a coffee shop drinking frappes and limiting most of my social life to my tight circle of friends.  Thankfully, he also didn't seem aware of the fact that I'm Bratva.  

I asked him if he knew anything about Oliver Queen.  His only reply was four words:  "Oliver Queen is dead."  Wow, sounds like that story that Mom once told me when Clark tried to flush his humanity down the toilet because he stupidly thought at the time that it was what made him weak.  Dad was still wearing green and so far it didn't seem like that it was a similar case.  Plus Dad _is_ human so he has even less excuse for leaving humanity behind. 

I pointedly avoided talking about the Purple Arrow because I didn't want to risk making it sound like Jonathan Sullivan-Queen and my alter ego were connected, even if I was talking to my dad from the other side of a window that he could see through.

I asked him who he worked for.  He flatly replied that he was not at liberty to say.  Way wrong answer.  I don't like hurting my own father, but I gave a command in Russian and Dad was zapped.  Again, he didn't respond much to the pain, even if he did fall unconscious.  

I was getting tired, plus I got a call from Mom asking me to come home from wherever I was at.  I obliged, but not before I asked my friends to keep me updated on my dad.  In turn, they reminded me about the money I owed them.  Thankfully, given our partnership, they never ask me for too much at once so as to accidentally catch the attention of my parents.  Two hundred and fifty grand isn't much, but it's enough to keep them from bothering me more than necessary.  

 

So as this month has gone by, I visited Dad once a week, but never coming face to face with him.  Each time I ask him who he is (his answer always being Agent Green Bean), who he works for (no answer), and who Oliver Queen is ("Oliver Queen is dead").  It frustrates me and what upsets me even more is that somebody did this to him.  He doesn't seem to know who he is.  As far as he is concerned, he was never married and definitely doesn't have a son.  Mom has apparently committed crimes that, the way he acts, could put ISIS (which is mostly defunct nowadays) to shame.  And I'm just her boring son who let's himself be a loser and an outcast when he could have his own circle of friends within Star City's finest and be spoiled with outrageous parties and everything he could ask for.  No, my dad raised me with more humility than that.  

Dad has been reduced to a puppet and I really,  _really_ want to find out who the puppeteer is and how his strings are being pulled so I can cut them.  And, if I have to, I'll even put down the puppeteer himself, or herself.  

Beyond that, Aimee's parents' divorce was finalized a couple of weeks ago and her dad was given full custody.  However, her parents reached a compromise (much to Aimee's displeasure) that the now formerly Mrs. Marek could have her for the weekend once a month.  Aimee confided in me that she didn't agree with that arrangement.  Given her own terms, her mother would instead not see her at all.  At least until she was ready, which Aimee has shown would not be for a particularly long time.  Jokingly, she told me she considered getting a nose job.  Ugly up her nose just to spite her mother.  I cocked my head and crossed my arms.  I seriously hope she wasn't considering it, but I joked back that in that case I would have to blacklist her, preventing her from even getting an appointment with a plastic surgeon.  

Thankfully, that put a smile on her face.  I just wish her self-esteem wasn't at a place where I had to use humor just to put a smile on her face.  One time Aimee even joked that I should be careful in case I grow tired of it.  I could never grow tired of telling her how beautiful she is, but I also try to be respectful as well.  She can still be a bit shy and I don't go about flaunting her like a trophy wife.  Nor do I deliberately make her uncomfortable.  At least I try not to.  I think it's one of the reasons why she feels so comfortable around me.  I understand her and I make an effort to respect her feelings.  Admittedly, sometimes I make mistakes, but I do my best to not repeat them.  

She's still pretty torn up about the whole divorce, but eventually with the help of me, her Dad, and our friends, she'll be okay.  

 

Mom seems to be doing okay.  Aside from a few more or less sleepless nights with my baby sister, she seems less tense.  Obviously, she is still worried about Dad and she wonders where he is and what's the matter with him.  I feel so guilty about that.  I know exactly where he is, but like her I don't know what's wrong and if she finds out where he is, at least right now she will also discover my involvement with the Bratva.  Maybe I should let her know.  Maybe she might even be able to use her expertise to help.  

Worse yet, Clark, who still comes by a few times a week to check up on Mom, has been giving me strange looks.  He knows I'm hiding something.  I know that sooner or later he's going to confront me, but every time I think he is about to he doesn't.  He's going to confront me when I least expect it, or maybe he is waiting for me to slip and he will tell me what I've been hiding.  I think part of the reason why I am aware of that is because it's a skill I learned from him.  Mom can't keep any secrets from him and nor can he from her.  I've learned how to tell when he is hiding something and I think it's safe to assume he has learned how to tell when  _I_ am hiding something, even if I have been working hard to teach myself how to hide things from my parents.  They don't know I'm Bratva.  Well, I can't speak for Dad right now, but for Mom I can.  

Also, Mom and Clark seem to be growing strangely close.  Mom stands up a little straighter when Clark comes by, smiles more, talks with a more relaxed tone.  Clark in turn seems to stammer less, mopes less, and he's even a little more playful.  A few times, I have seen him flying through my house and the property as it is relatively secluded with my baby sister in his arms.  Given her adorable giggles, she seems to enjoy it.  However, I apprehensively hope that he is aware that he is not her father.

In a bout of impulse, I told him as much.  He got flustered and stammered that he's well aware that he is not Thea's father.  He even reminded me that he flew me around when  _I_ was a baby.  To my embarrassment, Mom overheard the conversation, or confrontation more likely, and confirmed as much.  In fact, he wouldn't have flown me around at all if my dad never gave him permission to do so.  Great.  My embarrassment reached a high point.  In a moment of meekness, I apologized for my outburst and Mom and Clark accepted my apology, saying that they've been a little tense too.  I thought that if that was the case, then I didn't want to be in the room when Clark had an outburst.  He's very good about not getting physical with his outbursts, but that doesn't make him less intimidating.  I've seen him make Mom cry when they get in arguments.  Making your best friend cry--making my mother cry--is  _not nice_.  

I think everybody needs a break.  

Well, maybe my seventeenth birthday next week will do just that.  I'm not sure if it'll be the happiest since Dad is not available to help celebrate, but we'll do the best we can.  And I maybe I'll find a way to reveal that I know where Dad is.  

 

 


	21. Chapter Twenty-One

January 2030

 

Dear Diary,

 

As expected, my seventeenth birthday was not the best celebration ever.  It was quiet celebration, just Mom, Clark, Aunt Lois, Tess Mercer, Aimee, Felicity and myself.  Dig couldn't make it because he'd been out of town for a few weeks, Little Thea probably would have helped celebrate, but she's an infant and Artemis did her best to beg for attention and a scrap or two from the picnic table in the backyard.  We smiled, laughed, teased each other (or rather everybody mostly just teased me as I was the birthday boy) and just hung out.  Clark remembered that I didn't want a cake for my birthday this year and he made me...I'm not sure what it was.  It looked like a brownie, but it had a chocolate crust topped with a peanut butter custard.  It was delicious.  More impressive, Tess Mercer, who still runs the Watchtower hub in Metropolis helped him make it.  I didn't realize her baking skills were up to par, but she told me that Clark had been teaching her a few tricks.  She doesn't live in the Watchtower loft, but she comes and goes so often that she and Clark might as well be roommates.  

In terms of presents, I was given a few more books from some of my favorite authors, a limited release vinyl record that must have been hard for Felicity to find, Tess Mercer gave new, more powerful software for my computer, Mom gave me tickets to see a play that we saw together in December with Aimee and Aunt Lois, Aimee, feeling like she should return the favor for the carousel music box I gave her, gave me a music box.  Because she knew I loved to dance, it was one of those ones with a figure of a dancing couple inside.  Clark gave me a gift card to Cinemaccino.  I have enough money, both from doing work on the Kent Farm and from my weekly allowance, that it wasn't really necessary, but it was still sweet that he was willing to pay two hundred dollars' worth of movie tickets and frappes.  

We celebrated as best we could, even watching a movie later, but most of us, specifically everyone other than Aimee and Felicity had Dad in the back of our mind.  I was the only one who knew where he was, but I was no closer than anyone else to discovering what was wrong with him.

I still visited him once or twice a week and had gotten nowhere.  Weirdly enough, sometimes he didn't seem to remember the events of the day before.  Did he develop short-term memory loss during his disappearance?  Some days he appeared completely lucid and other days  he seemed less so.  One day, I watched a guy come to him with a meal and he seemed totally unaware.  Experimentally, he threw the apple at my dad's head.  Dmitri and I thought he'd catch it, but the apple hit him in the head and he didn't do or say anything.  He just kept staring into space.

Something else that was both heartbreaking and interesting was there were these moments when he would start screaming.  

"Stop, please stop!"

"I'll tell you anything you want to know, just please leave them out of this!" by "them" was he referring to Mom and I?

So many helpless pleadings followed by convulsions that made it seem like he was in horrible pain. Times like those, it was best to sedate him.  When he would wake up later, he would either make some snarky comment about being in a cage or he would be wondering out loud where he was.

A few times, I repeated my questions regarding whether he knew who he was, who Mom and I were, but it was always the same--Agent Green Bean, terrorist, and outcast son of said terrorist, respectively.  Each time I considered coming face to face with him, but each time, I found an excuse not to.  Maybe that makes me a little bit of a coward, or overly cautious but I didn't like the idea of my own father saying mean things to me even if he wasn't in his right mind.

As the Christmas season came along, given the holiday hype, for the most part it seemed that people started to move past, or at least set aside the rogue Green Arrow situation.  As it was Thea's first Christmas, Mom and I were particularly excited for the little critter.

Mom tried introducing her to a Santa Claus and he made my poor sister cry!  Well, this Santa Claus was one of those ones who actually had a real beard, but yeah she cried.  Subsequently, she cried every time she saw an image of the man. Not even six months old and my sister was already afraid of something.  Can't say I could blame her; Santa Claus is a stalker.

 I remember joking with Mom that come Christmas Eve, I should stand guard in case St. Nick tries to hurt my sister.  She laughed and told me that maybe I should.

That same day, unfortunately, Mom found my Bratva ring.  It was an accident really.  We were at an ice skating place and I slipped.  I landed on my head and my ring must have fallen out of my coat pocket.  She recognized the seal immediately and dragged me somewhere private so she could confront me.

Obvious question, why did I have a Bratva membership ring?  There was no embellishing the answer.  I explained to her that I was a member, had been a member for over six months.  I saved a Russian mobster's son and I was not given much of an option in regards to joining them.  Mom listened quietly and carefully as I filled her in about how in exchange for my membership, they stay out of our family's interests and they even help me bring down other mobsters.  

"All so the Bratva can stay on top," Mom correctly summed up.  Hearing it from someone else really made me feel guilty about my decision, but Mom seemed more understanding considering the details involving my membership.  Although, the worst part is that to this day she hasn't told me whether she's disappointed in me or not.  Now that she was aware of _that_  fact, I thought I might as well tell her that I knew where Dad was.  

I still wonder if Mom's reaction would have been any worse if she had found out on her own.  "Angry", "surprised", "furious", "livid", and "hurt" could not begin to describe Mom's reaction as her green eyes lit up with more fury and every negative emotion than I had ever seen before.  I think if she was Kryptonian, In rapid succession, she asked me why I didn't tell her sooner, why I was telling her now, was he okay, has he shared any detail regarding why he never came home the Christmas before, why he tried to kill me, who did this to him.  She only quit her rambling when I very loudly told her that I only knew as much as she did.  Once I got her to calm down, I filled her in on everything that I've discovered (which wasn't very much) since my Bratva associates found and apprehended Dad.  As I spoke, her features slowly morphed into what felt like the same look I have been expressing ever since I discovered Dad.

I filled her in on everything that Dad has said.  At the mention of being thought of as a terrorist, she blinked several times before saying, "Wow, I had no idea that I had such a lousy reputation," with that signature snark of hers.  When I got to the point where I told her what Dad has been saying about me, her features went from snark to anger to sorrow so quickly I thought a tornado had formed in her head.  Finally, she simply pulled me into a comforting hug.  

Finally she asked what we should do from here and pitifully told her I had no idea.  She then asked if I could take her to him.  I obliged, but I warned her that it might not be pleasant.  She didn't care and I couldn't blame her.  If I had any sense, I would keep going to see Dad, then leaving each time feeling like my heart had been ripped out of my chest.  Silently, I hoped that since she was his wife, Mom would have better time getting through to him. 

I called Dmitri and told him that I was coming with a guest.  When we got to that warehouse, I still can't decide who felt more awkward.  Mom, because she was in the same place as a few people who unashamedly choose whether they abide by the law or not, or them knowing that they were in the same room with Chloe Sullivan-Queen.  A woman that I was forced to reveal once that she was Watchtower.  Two powerful people on opposite sides of the law in the same room.  The tension was high, but at least the formalities were still there.  

I think Mom's heart sank when she saw Dad in that cage with nothing but a cot and a closed off space with a toilet and bathtub.  Dmitri and the rest of our associates have been very careful to not leave Dad with anything that he could use as a weapon, so in terms of food he has been given soup with no utensils.  I had to force Mom not to come face to face with Dad, saying that since we have no idea what's wrong with him, we didn't want him to be aware of the fact that it was really the Queens, or specifically me, who had him locked up.  

Mom tried speaking to him, but of course her voice was distorted so it didn't even sound feminine.  I had to turn away to hide my emotion as Mom asked the same questions I have been asking Dad over and over again and listened to Dad give the same answers.  Apparently it was too much for Mom to handle and she began crying as she yanked me into her arms.  I couldn't contain my tears any longer.  Who could have done this to Dad?  Why would they do this to Dad?  Was it a quarrel with Oliver Queen?  Was it a quarrel with the Green Arrow?  It's like he had no idea who he was.  I mulled it over in my head and soon an epiphany came into my head.  Gently, I untangled myself from Mom and tried something else.

I asked Dad if he remembered, about five years ago because I was twelve at the time (though I left that particular detail out) his son had lost an archery contest and he felt awful.  I was careful refer to myself in the third person so that he could figure things out on his own.  Mom figured out what I was doing and she encouraged me to continue.  It was a very hot day and his son wasn't at his best and he missed the bulls-eye that would have not only earned him a first place trophy, but would have sent him to an archery camp.  He felt horrible and hid in the nearby woods.  His dad eventually found him and told him that he didn't need a trophy in order for him to know how good an archer his son was.  When he convinced his son to come out of the woods, his son found that his mother, godfather, and his godfather's mother had prepared a little reception for him.  He handed his son his bow and encouraged him to hit a peanut as his mother tossed it in the air.  He shot it right out of the air and they called him the best archer on the West Coast.  

My eyes, and Mom's eyes welled up nostalgically, but it was Dad's reaction that was to most surprising.  And terrifying.  First he winced, then he exclaimed, then he started screaming as he fell to the floor and started writhing as if he were in some horrible amount of pain.  All Mom and I could do was stare.  However, through his screams, he managed to get out, "Johnny?"  Not long after that, one of my Bratva associates came in and sedated him.  

Mom and I almost immediately started discussing it.  We had no idea what was wrong with him.  It seems the Oliver Queen we know is in there somewhere, but something is controlling him and from what we just saw, if he starts thinking independently, or if he tries to remember something about himself, he feels pain.  But why?  How?  Mom paid Dmitri off and Dad was transported to Mom's Watchtower hub in the Glades where we locked him up in a similar state.  We called Emil Hamilton and when he arrived, he put Dad in an induced coma.  We also called Clark and after we filled him in, he took the opportunity to use his X-ray vision on Dad.  

There was something in his brain.  Using that knowledge, Emil studied it with some of the X-ray technology that was available in the hub's medical area and it was some sort of mind control device.  He showed us a picture of it.  It looks like some sort of cephalopodic creature connecting to his brain stem with tentacles leading to different parts of his brain including his amygdala.  Mom asked if it could removed, but Emil said that given the way it was embedded into his brain, if he tries to remove it, he runs the risk of killing Dad.  Even trying to neutralize it might have killed him.  Before he could do anything, he would need to get his hands on a schematic.  

The best that we could do at the moment was to focus on other things.  We tried, but it was still a tense Christmas and New Year's Eve.  

I have been looking over the x-ray photos over and over again and each time I get more and more upset.  However, I did discover something recently.  With the help of a magnifying glass I looked at something that caught my eye and was shocked.  It was little logo.  I knew that logo.  

It was the logo for Lex Luthor's newly reformed Luthor Industries.  

Lex Luthor, or somebody under his employ, did this to Dad.  Mr. Luthor has made quite a name for himself here in Star City and with Dad out of commission, his company is beginning to overshadow Queen Industries.  

I still need to tell Mom, Clark and the rest of our allies in the Justice League.  

Lex Luthor has made himself a new enemy. 


	22. Chapter Twenty-Two

February 2030

 

Dear Diary,

 

Since I made my little declaration of Lex Luthor making himself a new enemy, I don't feel like I've gotten anywhere.  At least not as far I'd like.  Mom found out about the Luthor Industries logo on the cephalopodic robotic...parasite you might as well call it attached to Dad's brain stem on her own and she shared her findings with Clark, Tess, and the rest of the Justice League.  It's a real shame Tess no longer has any place in LuthorCorp, or in Lex Luthor's good graces.  Otherwise, she would have some vital connections that would really speed up Dad's recovery.  Also, when Tess was given a real body, there were a few complications.

The "real body" Tess was given is actually a clone of her.  I never looked deeply into the whole weird science of cloning, but basically a bit of her genetic material was put into a empty "template" which is the term people use for clones without anyone's genetic material in them, and was grown in a lab.  Somehow, they figured out how to slow the aging process down to a level similar to an average human being and now instead of being a red, robotic woman, she's now a human woman.  She actually appears to be a little younger than she was pre-cybernetic Tess.  She is still her intelligent, calculating, and "I'm not good or bad" demeanor, she's just an intelligent, calculating, and "I'm not good or bad" twenty-two-year-old.  

Either way, she's still my closest friend out of everyone in the Justice League.  She didn't share the information with anyone else, but she figured out that I knew about the Luthor Industries logo on the parasite in Dad's head before Mom ever found out about it.  All I could do was offer a defeated smile and compliment her shrewdness as we shared a coffee.  

Some things I have been able to do, I've practically stalked Lex Luthor.  Mom and I know his daily schedule, when he usually arrives at Luthor Industries, when he usually leaves, and we even know his coffee order.  We managed to find an agenda of his for the next month, but mostly all of the events on it were superficial and not really helpful.  Or maybe not.  One of them was a business party which, quite by surprise, Mom was invited to.  It makes sense; she is the wife of the CEO of Queen Industries.  Dad couldn't make it for obvious reasons, but, despite our mutual discomfort about being in Mr. Luthor's presence, we made an appearance.  Most amusingly, for me anyway, was that Clark was on babysitting duty.  Mom called him earlier that evening before we left about a "desperate emergency" and he blurred in only to find out that Mom needed a babysitter.  He asked why I didn't do it.  I was accompanying Mom to a stupid black-tie party.  To compensate for me not being able wear my favorite color, Mom wore a single-shoulder purple gown.  He agreed, though he couldn't stop staring at my mother's dress.  

I swear, more and more lately, Clark gets tongue-tied whenever he sees Mom in some sort of formal wear.  Usually, she's the one woman he doesn't gawk at when wearing such beautiful clothes.  He's weird.  And Mom threatened that if she finds out later that he brought little Thea along for a one of super-saves, she was would kill him.  Suffice to say, he didn't.  In fact, when we came home later that evening, we found that he had dosed off on the rocker in Thea's nursery.  That should be Dad.  There's another thing, I think without meaning to, Mom is making a substitute father out of Clark for Thea in Dad's comatose state.  

Moving on, Mom and I attended that party and I think we stuck out a little.  As far as almost everyone knew, Dad was still missing and Queen Industries is hanging by a thread that is progressively growing thinner.  Out of courtesy, a few people approached us to make small talk, or to acknowledge our presence, or most surprisingly, speak to me directly, but Mom and I weren't too comfortable.  In Mom's case, that's saying quite a bit.  Intrepid journalist and chairwoman of the Isis Foundation by day and hero scout/Watchtower by night and she was feeling uncomfortable.  Usually Dad attends these stupid functions with her, plus we were both more than a little apprehensive of being in the presence of a man who may or may not be personally responsible for my father's condition.  He was one of the people who approached Mom and I could tell she was having as much difficulty as I was staying civil.  Although, funnily enough, I remember plenty of times where she and Dad came home from a function where Dad was laughing about Mom's wittiness that she displayed at it.  Sometimes, if it wasn't terribly late in the evening, Mom would come to my room and share something that she did that evening.  

I'm kind of missing those kinds of evenings right now.

Anyway, Lex was civil.  He thought it was a shame that Dad couldn't make it, to which we curtly agreed.  He started asking questions regarding Queen Industries and our safest answer--and there was more truth to this than I think either of us realized at the time--that the company was "limping along" without Dad's leadership, but by no means is it in danger of bankruptcy or anything else.  All in all, we didn't really enjoy being in Mr. Luthor's company.  I couldn't even find a damn piano to play.  Are musical skills not one the things that was placed in this clone of Lex Luthor?  There's another thing.  Lex Luthor died more than twenty years ago and the Lex Luthor that lives today, that sat in the Oval Office for a brief and dramatic period, is a clone of him.  How weird is that?  I wonder if he has any Horcruxes.  I brought that up with Mom and Dad once and they laughed, while Dad said that Mr. Luthor might need a nose job before he can be likened to Voldemort.  Although, given everything I was told that Lex Luthor did before his apparent "death", is he really any better than the slit-nosed Muggle-phobic wizard whose favorite phrase is "Avada Kadavra?"  Mr. Luthor seems to share his fear of death if he had to make a bunch of clones and a power suit that is currently worn by Lana Lang.  

I'm sorry, but Lana Lang is a stupid woman.  Apparently, she was so focused on not only ridding the original Lex Luthor's chance for survival, but also her need for power was so great that it seems she didn't really think of the consequences too well.  I doubt she was ever chess player.  Otherwise she would have learned how to think several moves ahead.  I actually beat Lex Luthor in a game of chess once, I don't think he took it too well even if he called me an "unpredictable opponent."  Now Ms. Lang not only ruined any chance of being with Clark, but also she ruined her friendship with my mother.  Permanently.  

Mom and I stayed for about half an hour before we were both ready to leave.  During that time, I managed to keep my meteor power at bay.  Keeping my powers under control, for the most part, is as easy breathing, but in Mr. Luthor's presence, it's not particularly safe.  Actually, it's not particularly safe here in Star City with its less-than-enthusiastic attitude towards the meteor-enhanced.  Whenever I visit Metropolis and Smallville, I let my powers show.  Most seem unaware, or they notice and don't know the source, and of course, all my friends and family think it's an awesome power.  Also, while we were in that penthouse on top of Luthor Industries, Mom and I made a point of catching anything regarding projects run by the company.  I'm sad to say that between the two of us, nothing useful was heard, but we did see Mr. Luthor chatting with someone that Mom recognized.  Judging by how her face drained of color, this didn't seem like something good.  

Some African American woman, thirtyish, pretty, although she looked as if the concept of smiling was an impossible feat...Mom said this woman was Cynthia Waller.  As in the daughter of Amanda Waller.  I remember it was Tess who told me about her.  A woman with twisted sense of getting things done.  Suicide Squad and Checkmate.  Both "heroic" organizations that show more disregard for human life than anything else.  Checkmate tried to have the JSA destroyed, believing it to be a threat to national security.  Or was it really just a smokescreen for the megalomaniacal leaders of the organization so that they could stay on top, pulling the strings.  And according to research conducted by Mom and Tess, Cynthia Waller has rebuilt Checkmate.  If she is working with Lex Luthor, then things are worse than we thought.  Also, it gave us an idea where to start with trying to figure out how to help Dad.  

As much as irked me, Mom made me promise to focus on my schoolwork and let her, Tess, Clark, and Aunt Lois worry about Dad.  I promised, if only to shut her up about it.

Beyond everything related to Dad, I've had what has to one of the weirdest and traumatizing weekends of my life.  

Valentine's Day has never been my favorite holiday and Aimee hates it too, so we didn't really indulge ourselves with the hype that came with the holiday.  Although, Aimee did get me a box of white chocolates from Godiva.  Well, actually she gave it to me  _before_ Valentine's Day.  Mom had a business venture in Metropolis, so we spent the week there.  It was a convenient week too, because, in terms of school, it was a virtual week.  Given the growing family, the loft at the Queen clocktower was renovated to having a couple of bedrooms--mine and Mom and Dad's.  Now that there's Thea, there's a little crib in Mom's bedroom.  I did enjoy being in Metropolis.  I got to visit Clark and Tess at the Watchtower loft.  Tess still seems to have quite a bit of money under her name, so she treated me to a fancy dinner in town.  Also, I think that she just really enjoys food.  I can't say I blame her.  She was cybernetic for a long time.  I seriously wonder where she stores all the food she eats.  She still has curves in all the right places.  

Either way, she is one woman among my parents' friends and allies, besides my mother and Aunt Lois, that I can spend long periods of time with and not grow bored.  Now that she is basically a twenty-two-year-old young woman, Aunt Lois joked that Aimee now has some competition.  I'm seventeen!  Plus, Tess is too much of a best friend for there to be any romantic tension.    

Speaking of romance, when Valentine's Day came along, Felicity called me and told me that Stephen invited her to a Valentine's Day party at his house as his plus-one.  Well, actually he sent an invitation in the form of a red dress.  A surprisingly beautiful red dress that accentuated Felicity's curves, legs, and breasts.  She sent me a selfie of her wearing it.  She didn't look bad.  She only wished I was there to help calm her nerves.  I might be a little apprehensive of Stephen in case he breaks my friend's heart, but reassured her that she would be fine.  And if she needed me, I was just a phone call away.

Here in Metropolis, the Daily Planet was hosting a Valentine's Day party and Clark dragged Tess along and Mom, who quite unsurprisingly received an invite, dragged me along.  The bullpen was transformed into a cesspool of bubbles, glitter, red, hearts, candy, and my generation's mix of overplayed love songs.  Tess and I weren't too keen on indulging ourselves.  We barely even dressed for the occasion.  I wore a sued black shirt; she just wore a simple white blouse with her black slacks.  

"Is it wrong that I want to see all these hearts and cherubs burst into flames?" I asked Tess.

"A bit harsh even for you, but no," replied Tess.

"Well, then..." I grabbed a little red flower from a nearby cup and Tess glared up at me as I tucked it behind her ear.  In retaliation, she grabbed the flower and dipped it into the flame of a nearby candle.  That action was noticed by Mom and Clark and they glared at us.  I explained that this was our annual sneak peak at hell.

Mom reminded me that I have a girlfriend, to which I reminded her that she shares my dislike for this holiday.  

Clark smiled knowingly.  He could tell that we really didn't want to be there anymore and he let us leave.  Tess and I left and we went back to Watchtower where we indulged ourselves with pizza and a movie.  Later, we bade each other goodnight and I headed back to the loft at Queen Tower.  When I arrived, I didn't see Thea's nanny, so I assumed Mom was home.  She was, in a manner of speaking.  Some things were either broken or knocked over, so my first thought was that Mom had way too much to drink and barely made it to her bedroom.  I checked her room, there Thea was sound asleep, but no Mom.  Then I heard a scream.  Not a scream of fright, but sickeningly, a scream of pleasure. 

Fearing the worst, I slowly made my way to my bedroom.  The door wasn't closed all the way and I peered inside.  I wish I didn't.  I found Mom for sure.  Actually, I found her legs...and they were wrapped tightly around the waist of...it hurts to write this down...Clark Kent.  Clothes were all over the place and here I saw Clark Kent thrusting powerfully into my mother.  On  _my_ bed!  I stood there frozen for several long minutes.  I knew I should have moved, ran for my life even, but I couldn't.  Each thrust was like a stab into my chest.  

On and on it went with Mom meeting each thrust with a barely suppressed moan and planting kisses everywhere her lips could reach.  Finally, I think Mom reached her climax as she let out an earsplitting shriek that I think would have woken up the entire building if it were an apartment instead of a business building.  Thankfully, Thea slept right through it.  She is a very heavy sleeper.  

Then, when Clark and Mom caught their breaths, Clark whispered, "I love you, Chloe."

Just as I was about to go and grab a lump of kryptonite, I heard Mom whisper back, "I love you too, Clark."

At that, I felt no anger, no hurt, no surprise...just numbness.  I left the loft.  I thought about flying back to Star City, or even to Gotham to be with Lois, but I had no strength to take myself to the airport.  I went back to Watchtower.  Thankfully, Tess hadn't fallen asleep yet.  I found her on the sectional couch in front of the stained glass window with her glasses on and a book in her hands.  She saw the state I was in and asked what was wrong.  

I told her everything.  In response, she pulled me into a sisterly hug.  She invited me to sleep on the couch.  I took up her offer.  

I have to say that that was the worst sleep I had ever had.  

I was awoken before the sun really began to fill the sky by my cellphone.  It was Mom.  I hung up on her.  She called me again.  Might as well answer.  

"Sleep well,  _Mother_?" I asked scathingly. 

"Okay, first--I don't appreciate the tone, second--where are you?" her voice was groggy, but the motherly reproach was there.

"After what happened last night, all you can do is ask me where I am?" I asked with a mirthless laugh.  "You should be ashamed of yourself.  I'm  _disgusted_ with you!  How you could you do this to Dad?  Dad might be in a medically induced coma with a robotic parasite in his head, but he doesn't deserve this!"

" _Jonathan_ ," Mom cut me off sharply, despite her grogginess.  "What are you talking about?"  

I was about to say something snarky to that stupid question, but then I saw Clark at the top of the stairs.  He looked as groggy as Mom sounded over the phone.  I thought he couldn't get drunk.  

"What happened?" he asked with a groan.  Tess, who had gotten up to make herself coffee heard that and started reproaching him the same way I was reproaching Mom.  

More softly, I asked Mom, after telling her where I was, "Mom, what do you remember from last night?" 

The question seemed to have caught Mom off-guard, but she told me that she remembered taking me to the Daily Planet's Valentine's Day function.  She remembered that she and Clark gave Tess and I permission to leave.  She remembered talking to Clark and joking about a crazy Valentine's Day involving Aunt Lois many years ago.  She remembered a lady approached them with drinks that they accepted.  And nothing else beyond waking up in an awkward position on the couch wearing one of Dad's Green Arrow costumes.  Admittedly, I had to stifle a giggle at that revelation, but I almost didn't believe Mom until Clark started giving a similar story to Tess.

So apparently, Mom and Clark made love in my bed and they don't even remember it.  Tess and I swore to each other that we would never tell anyone about that, but she did say, more to herself, that it was like Lois and Clark's bachelor/bachelorette party all over again.  What was she talking about?  I asked her as much and she wouldn't say anything.  

I couldn't track down the woman that gave Mom and Clark the drinks, but apparently they weren't the only ones who shared a strange night.  I went to the Daily Planet bullpen, and I found a few people curled with each other with or without clothes on.  I also found a cup that must have had the weird drink in it.  My first assumption was that it might have been Dick Grayson's wife, Zatanna Zatara, but the seal on it wasn't hers.  Actually it wasn't a seal so much as it was magic symbol.  I have studied magic enough to know my symbols and this was a symbol for desire.  So Mom and Clark were drugged with a dose of desire.  Knowing how magic works, I know that there has to be an existing amount of affection for the person in order for it to work on someone, so I guess Mom and Clark, whether they themselves are aware of it, have deep, dark, and hidden feelings for each other.  

They don't love each other!  They are best friends!  They are always there for each other when they need each other and Mom is so bad at hiding things from me that I would know if she was having an affair.  What if it results in a pregnancy?  Dad would be destroyed if he knew what happened between Mom and Clark.  Mom would likely not only be destroyed, but feel dirtier than she ever had before.  Clark...I don't how he would feel, but I know him well enough that he would feel almost irrecoverably guilty.  And should I take comfort in the fact that Mom clearly doesn't remember making love to Clark and declaring her love for him?  Maybe there's some comfort in that sentiment.   

Should I call John Jones and ask him very nicely to erase those my memories from my head?  Maybe not, because then _he_ will know.  I'll just have to do my best to block it from my memory.  Or at least remember to never reread this entry.  I'll focus on helping Dad. 

This has been a really weird weekend.   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the comics, Amanda Waller had a few surviving children, and since she was killed in Smallville, I couldn't really use her. And the Amanda Waller in Arrow is young enough to by Smallville Amanda Waller's daughter. So, just me adding another character shared by the two TV shows while borrowing the actors' first names. Cheers.


	23. Chapter Twenty-Three

May 2030

 

Dear Diary, 

 

It took a very long time for me to get when I saw between my mother and my godfather out of my mind.  Actually, try as hard as I might, I can't seem to forget about it.  I've managed to push it to the back of mind, but it was not without difficulty.  It took awhile before I could even look my mother in the eye without effort.  In fact, for at least a week or two, my protective instincts towards my little sister got to the point where my throat constricted every time I saw my mother holding her.  I didn't feel any trace of excitement I normally feel whenever Clark comes to visit or offers to steal me away for the day.  For the longest time, it seemed the only secret between Aimee and I was that my dad is the Green Arrow and my mother is powerful hacker codenamed Watchtower, but now the secret of what happened on Valentine's Day is between us.  Aimee is very good at keeping secrets, but maybe I just feel that saying it out loud would just refresh the memory.  

I could barely sleep for at least a week.  Mom thought it was just nightmares and she asked if I needed anything to help me sleep.  I told her it wouldn't be necessary.  Aimee picked up on my insomnia as well and her offer was a bit more intimate.  Tempting, but I was worried a bout of physical intimacy would fill images of Clark inside my mother in my head.  That's not what I told her, but she didn't press the issue.  Nor did she get all whiny about me turning down an offer of sex.  I would be worried that Aimee was possessed by something or someone if she complained about something like that.  

Eventually, Mom caught on my strange attitude.  I couldn't hide much of anything from her anymore than she could from me.  Knowing that she would only press a little harder if I evaded the "What's going on?" question--and that answering with "You really don't want to know" would only intensify her curiosity, I told her to set Thea down in her baby chair at the breakfast table and take a seat.  The words felt like poison and my eyes stung with betrayal and hurt, but I told her very slowly that on Valentine's Day, I saw her making love to someone in my bed in the loft at Queen Tower.  Mom stared at me for several minutes.  It seemed that she knew she couldn't offer a strong protest because there was that blackout moment where she couldn't remember anything between the Daily Planet and waking up one of Dad's Green Arrow costumes (that still cracks me up every time I think of it) so she simply, though fearfully, asked if I happened to know who she was having sex with.  I began to answer with "You don't want to know," but she gave me a warning glance.  I couldn't look her in the eye as I slowly answered, "Clark."

Again, Mom was silent for several minutes.  Then she said, "You're not lying."  It was a statement of fact and I could only turn and look her in the eye--truly look her in the eye--for the first time in weeks.  I feel like I gave her the most resigned look that I had ever given her.  Mom covered her mouth with both hands as tears brimmed in her eyes.  She then tried to offer me an apologetic squeeze of my hand, but I quickly recoiled, telling her coldly that I had to get to school.  Looking back now, I feel guilty about leaving her in tears the way I did.  I would later find out that I was not the first person to do that to her.  She wouldn't say who did it to her, but it made me very guilty.

I went for days not speaking to Mom and eventually Aimee forced the secret out of me.  Given her stunned expression, she was not expecting anything like _that_.  She even got me to explain the circumstances of Mom and Clark's sexual escapade and she told me that given those facts, she felt I was being way too hard on my mother.  For one, she didn't remember any of it.  Two, she magically drugged.  Three, she was clearly devastated by her actions and hasn't so much as confronted Clark about it, who according to Tess, still has no idea what went down that night.  

"So, J.Q., quit being a douche and stop giving your mother a hard time!" Aimee had snapped.  She also, more softly, added that she was already having to deal with my missing dad, she didn't need me giving her the cold shoulder on top of that.  

 _Wow_ , I thought at the time.  Aimee really knows how to get me to get my head out of my ass when the time calls for it.  It's one of the reasons why I date her.  Why she's someone that I care so much about.

So, I confronted Mom.  I found her in the Watchtower hub in the Glades.  She was busy, but she stopped what she was doing.  She didn't turn to look at me, but I just got it over with.  

"Hey, Mom," I began pathetically.  I swore to myself I wouldn't get emotional, but there I was getting weepy as I apologized to her for being so mean to her.  It wasn't her fault that she ended up in bed with her best friend (even if the bit of magic used on her feeds off of existing feelings no matter how small and insignificant, though I didn't add that part) and I was too hard on her.  I lamely added that I understood if I was beyond forgiveness, to which Mom laughed.  It was such a beautiful laugh that I couldn't help but laugh with her.  She got up from chair and I barely had time to think before she collided into me with a hug.  I hugged her back in spite of myself.  

"Jonathan Sullivan-Queen, if you think you are beyond forgiveness, then you must be someone else's boy, because my son isn't that stupid," she told me.  I think she tried to sound reprimanding, but she was giggling and crying.  We shared a tender moment, but it was soon rudely interrupted by Speedy and one of Mom's prodigies on the computers.  Mom broke away from me and asked if I could help a woman with some Watchtower work with that tempting smile of hers.  I grinned and grabbed an earpiece and we immediately got busy.  

So Mom and I reconciled and we quickly forgot all about everything regarding Valentine's Day and my harshness towards Mom.  We resumed our efforts with trying to help Dad.  In fact, one of Mom's prodigies managed to become employed by Luthor Industries, so we had a bug right in the heart of the lion's den.  Mom and I weren't bouncing in our chairs screaming "Yippee" yet.  It was incredibly risky, but three weeks into the job, sometime last month, Mom's bug managed to not only send us a copy of the schematic of the parasite in Dad's brain, but also managed to do so without being caught or killed in the process. 

Emil, with the help of Bruce Wayne, quickly started trying to reverse-engineer the parasite and figure out how remove it without endangering Dad's life.  They are still trying figure things out.  I'm not terribly tech-savvy beyond the arts of hacking, but this parasite is ingeniously designed.  Based on Emil and Bruce's studies, it's built so that if they even try to remove it, it will embed itself even further into Dad's head.  That's not helpful.  They were at a loss, which given how smart they are, is really saying something.  Try to remove it by force, Dad dies.  Neutralize with an electric shock, Dad dies.  Try to put Dad under and have on a fancy life-support device and try to remove piece by piece, Dad dies.  Sad to say it, but I don't think that that parasite  _can_ come out.  

Wait.

I just had an epiphany.

What if Mom and I can hack it?  Based on my own observations from when Dad was in that cage in that Bratva warehouse, that device isn't always active and Dad was able to fight past it, even if it caused him pain.  Maybe Mom and I can find its coding through cyberspace and figure out how to neutralize it without having to even remove it.  And without turning Dad's brain to jelly.

Oh, boy, I think Mom and I really have to get busy.

 


	24. Chapter Twenty-Four

June 2030

 

Dear Diary,

 

Once I brought my idea up with Mom about attempting to hack the parasite in Dad's head, we quickly got busy.  I couldn't help her as much I would have preferred because there were still a couple of weeks of school left before summer began and I had homework, but devoted much of my spare time into helping her.  In fact, I got so carried away with helping her, that Mom made me take a break.  That manifested in the form of Aimee and Felicity.  Lately I've been seeing Dig less and less as he is spending a lot of time away from home and our conversations are more limited to emails.  So, a few times, Aimee, or Felicity, or both would come by my house and steal me away for the afternoon, or day if it was a weekend and I was finished with my homework.  

Usually, if it's both Aimee and Felicity, we might catch movie that we know will suck and later spend at least an hour or two after discussing how bad it was over coffee or Asian food.  We do catch good movies once in awhile, but the selection of good movies is more often than not outweighed by the selection of bad movies.  Personally, I don't have much of genre preference, I just usually go for a movie that has a movie star I like, or more often simply has a high approval rating from both critics and audiences.  Aimee and Felicity have very different feelings about movies.  Like me, Aimee is more into books and news articles when it comes to movies and TV, she likes something with a complex story and equally complex characters.  The genre doesn't matter unless those qualities exist.  Felicity loves her horror flicks and she somebody that I can easily get sucked into a video game with.  One thing the three of us share in common when it comes to movies is stupid romance flicks.  We openly bash everything Nicholas Sparks.  If we want good romance, we go for stuff like  _Love Actually_ and  _Moulin Rouge!_  Well, the latter is particularly sad, so when we watch that, we skip all the negative scenes and we are left with a generally cute and happy story and we pretend that Satine comes in later to ask Christian how his story is coming.  Wishful thinking.  Almost as pitiful as fanfiction.  

When it's just Aimee and I, we might indulge ourselves with the outdoors.  Sometimes we will drive to a forest resort for a hike, or someplace to go horseback riding (she's a lot better than me at that, but she did grow up on a farm) but usually we just explore the woods behind my house.  Sometimes when we go hiking, we take our swimwear, especially if we're hiking in a place where we know we had found a place to swim once or twice.  Sometimes we might get carried away with our journalistic sleuthing and get ourselves in trouble with the real press or, or we might have some fun and tease the press.  I can think of a few times where I have embarrassed a few reporters while they were in front of a camera when said reporters did something to upset me, Aimee, my mother, and plenty of other people I care about.  Making them have orgasms in front of the camera is just the least of them.  I think it's weird how I can do that sometimes.  It's like I'm giving them...a "mind job" as Dig once described it, even though what I can do is not telepathic.  Then again, weirdness seems to follow my family like magnets.  

When it's just me and Felicity spending the day together, she's different story.  She hates the outdoors, poor girl.  No, when I'm with her we hack, we play video games, I try to teach her to cook...we do just about everything as long as it in the city.  When she started a relationship with Stephen, she made it clear to him that she was not his property and she was going to spend time with her best friend as she pleased, so if he was going to be the jealous type, he might as well just crawl back into his giant house and...she never told me what the rest of that declaration was.  Maybe it's a good thing.  

Maybe Mom is to blame for that as she had her "Wall of Weird" when she was in high school.  

Aimee seems to be doing a lot better emotionally now that her mother no longer lives with her.  She's not having to live up to anyone's impossible standards and no one is telling her--at least no who really matters--that she isn't beautiful, or that she's not pushing her potential to be noticed more.  Just an observation, but people don't really call her "farmgirl" much anymore, even if she is addicted to flannels, faded denim, and boots.  Most don't really mean it as an insult--some do, but it is a very weak insult--but people don't really refer her to that much.  She can be spunky and cold and sweet, and she can scare people away with her temper, but at least she doesn't have the promise of her mother's reproach hanging over her.  

I also feel that she is less timid when we make love.  Not just because we are both becoming more experienced, but also because she doesn't have what her mother thinks of her on her mind.  My meteor power must make for good sex because when I am in the throes of ecstasy, they go off and Aimee feels every emotion I'm feeling.  We almost become wrapped in an...empathic cocoon of passion and our bodies hang in a hot counterpoint that fills my mind with music.  Like a steadily increasing tempo before it reaches its climax and becoming more and more beautiful until it's almost blinding, before finally coming back down to its place of calm and, sometimes, lingering with that steady tempo until it comes to a reluctant, but much needed, end.  

In regards to my meteor power, I do worry sometimes.  It's not fair to say that just because you have a meteor power that you are automatically set to snap and become a psycho like so many of the people Mom and Clark faced when they were my age, but it does make me worry.  I think it's more accurate to say that with meteor powers, it's easier to make bad choices as you either grow tired of feeling like a freak, or since you have powers, you suddenly think that nothing is stopping you from doing whatever you want.  If I want to, I can bring people to their knees with enough fear to kill them, which, I found out the hard way a few months back.  I told Mom about it and, instead of recoiling from me or even shipping me off to someplace like Belle Reeve in Kansas, she hugged me and told me everything was going to be okay.

It's nice having a mother who is willing to help me with a more or less difficult power to maintain, rather than one who would have thrown me in an asylum the moment the more disturbing effects of my powers started to show.  Even Dad, before he disappeared, slowly overcame his apprehensiveness with my powers, even Mom's.  I think that maybe his apprehensiveness towards hers stemmed from his fear of losing her.  He's not the only one; it scares me whenever a healing session renders Mom "dead" for an uncertain amount of time.  

Still, I worry that one day I'll just snap.  And I don't know how many will get hurt or killed along the way before I'm put away...or put down.

As far as hacking the parasite in Dad's head is coming along, it didn't take very long for Mom and I to isolate its coding.  The parasite was definitely some kind of prototype and Dad was the guinea pig as Mom, Tess, and Dr. Emil said that they had never seen something like it before.  It seemed to have some sort of algorithm that constantly fought any thought that was entirely Dad's own.  It also put up a really good fight against many of Mom's attempts to neutralize it.  I looked it over myself a bit and, based on my knowledge so far, it seemed like it might have been run on remote control to some degree.  As if someone was feeding the parasite commands and, in turn, the parasite influenced Dad's decisions and repressed certain memories that tied to his life as a husband and father.

So, it's not parasite that was fighting Mom's attempts to hack it; someone controlling the parasite was one a one-on-one battle with her efforts.  I don't think it was just one person either, because, through several intervals, we realized that someone was fighting Mom's hacks at all hours of the day.  With that assertion, we contacted our mole in Luthor Industries and they quickly got busy with trying to find out where in the building the same coding we were seeing was coming from.  They must gotten close, because a couple of weeks ago we stopped hearing from them.  Okay, proof that working for Luthor Industries is dangerous and Big Brother is always watching them.

I couldn't take it anymore.  I really should have spoken to Mom first, and maybe Clark, even if I haven't been able to look at him the same way since February, but they would have objected, which would have been a waste of precious time.  I gathered my gear and together with Artemis, and Felicity guiding me, I paid Luthor Industries a visit.

Since I had Artemis with me, I couldn't get to Luthor Industries via zip-line (not that I'm complaining; I hate zip-lining from building to building) so I we had to sneak in through the car garage.  I've toured Luthor Industries many times, some of which were by Lex Luthor himself.  With that sentiment, I take comfort in assuming that he has no idea about my secret identity.  Hiding Artemis's identity is a bit more difficult.  She's a dog and it's not like she's a secret pet of mine.  I'm proud of her.  And I know that Lex Luthor had seen her on a few occasions where he paid a visit to my house.  I don't know how they were developed, but Bruce Wayne gave me a set dog booties that let her nails through, but also they somehow distort how people see her.  Without the booties, they would see a blue-eyed wolf-Husky mix with mostly white fur and brown markings on her face, with them...I don't really know because Bruce also gave me a wearable device that let's me see past the distortion, but from what I could tell, what other see isn't very pleasant.  Even Clark and Mom, who Artemis is very fond of, were a little terrified of my dog.

We used the elevator and Felicity hacked it so it would not open for anyone until I reached the floor I was trying to get to.  I knew where Luthor Tower kept files of its more secretive projects and that was where I was heading.  It was late, so there was hardly anyone in the building and Felicity hacked into the security cameras and made sure that I was unseen, playing loops at the right times so that I could make my way safely and so that the loops weren't caught by security.  I did encounter a few people.  I shot them with tranq arrows before they could let out any audible displays of fright at my dog and dragged them into empty rooms.  I remembered my manners and whispered "Sweet dreams" to each of them.  I also remembered to turn off my phone so that I didn't accidentally get a call from Mom or someone else.  Besides, I might have slipped something into her glass of water that would leave her unconscious for eight hours.  

To say she was angry about that when she woke up would be a massive understatement.  I should be above drugging my own mother, but I'm really not.  But I don't do it for laughs either.  I did that maybe once, and to Dad at the same time, and I think I thought at the time that death would have been kindness.  Nowadays, we just laugh about it.

I found the file room I was looking for and Artemis actually proved to be a big help.  While I was thumbing through a few files, I heard her whining and scratching at a shelf.  I gently asked her if she found something.  And she did find something.  I found a finger scanner at the bottom of a drawer in the file cabinet.  I pulled Lex Luthor's fingerprints off a glass the week before, so I had something.  Thankfully it worked.  The wall slid sideways and revealed a whole room.  Herein I found what I was looking for.  I found stuff regarding mind control and some of it was encrypted.  I also found where project itself was located in the building. 

"Good girl, Artemis," I told my dog, patting her behind the ears softly.  "Let's go save Daddy."  As if she understood my words, she licked her lips and wagged her fluffy tail a little.

We stepped out of the out the secret room, as well as the file room, and we began our trek to the room we were getting to.  It was actually in one of the sublevels.  Felicity sounded a little annoyed about having to hack the elevator shaft again, but she didn't complain much either.  I couldn't decide if it was boring or relieving that the elevator had no music.  Soon, we reached the floor and this place appeared as empty as the floors above.  With my bow at the ready, Artemis made our way to the room.  The hallways down here felt a little less straightforward than the ones above, but I didn't get lost.  I encountered a few more security guards and, using my powers, I quickly subdued their alarm with a bit of calmness and they didn't even do anything when I shot their walkies and then knocked them out with my staff.  When I reached the room I needed to get to, I saw that it needed a finger scan.  Hoping that it would work, I pressed one of the guards' fingers on the scanner.  The door unlocked.  

Inside was considerably less quiet than the rest of the building.  I found a couple of IT people and a few more guards and they each had guns.  I was thankfully quicker as I shot a gas arrow into a chair and a bit of knock-out gas was released.  This one was developed so that affected people and not dogs, so Artemis was fine.  I could barely suppress my excitement as I found the same coding on these computer screens as I did at the Watchtower hub.  I  dragged the people out of the room and closed the door behind me and put a small explosive on it, so if someone opens it, I'll know.  I sat down and quickly got busy.  There was no one fighting back, so I was quickly able to plant a virus that, over the next two minutes, would completely destroy the project.  Proud of my handiwork, I got up from my chair and rigged the room, with all the files in it, to blow.  

"Let's go home, Artemis," I told my dog.  I opened the door again and I stopped dead in my tracks.  I came face to face with Lex Luthor himself...and he had a gun pointed at my head.  Well, this was awkward.  

"Mr. Luthor," I said, my voice disguised.  

"I don't know how you got here," began Lex, "but you are going to back into that room and fix that project."  He was putting up a brave front, but I could tell that my powers were working on him as I tried to fill him with fear.  

"Oh, Mr. Luthor, don't you know that mind control is wrong?" I asked him reasonably.  I had my hand on my detonator.  "Which do you think is faster?  Your finger or mine?  Pull that trigger, I press this detonator...we both die."  I was trying to be brave, but there's something about having a gun pointed at your head that makes all efforts for bravery seem weak.  

My reasoning had the desired effect though, and Mr. Luthor lost his composure long enough for me to throw a knife at his hand.  He dropped the gun and I was onto him before he could grab it with his good hand.  I don't really know how good a fighter Lex Luthor is, but I think a lot of people would struggle with fighting both a person and a big dog at the same time on top of having an injured hand.  I had trained Artemis enough that she knew how to subdue someone without fatally injuring them and she brought Lex down to his knees.  I knew I better give her a bath before Mom saw the blood on her snout.  I also took my throwing knife away from Lex before he could use it to injure my dog.  If I was unhappy enough because of his company's involvement regarding Dad's condition, I would be livid if he injured Artemis.  I stood over Mr. Luthor glancing down at him thoughtfully.

He looked back up at me with a bloody smile.  "I don't know who you are, but when I find out, you'll be wishing I had put a bullet in your head." 

I thought about that for a minute.  "Okay," and I knocked him out.  I dragged him a safe distance away from the room and I pressed the detonator as I Artemis and I stepped into the elevator back to the parking garage.  "I hope it wasn't  _too_ big a wasted investment," I said out loud.

The fire department reached Luthor Industries soon after Artemis and I left and I made my way to the Glades.  I opened the Watchtower's computers and I saw the coding for the parasite in Dad's head in shambles.  I took a big risk, but I turned the switch off of Dad's induced coma.  I cuffed him to the table for safe measure.

Artemis and I are sitting by the table now waiting for him to wake up.  I hope what I did fixed what was wrong in his head.  It's almost morning and I'm so tired that I can barely write anymore...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the way, one of the sentences above doe not reflect on my views of fanfiction.;)


	25. Chapter Twenty-Five

June 2030

 

Dear Diary,

 

This has been a crazy month.  I guess I'll start with the best. 

After I seemingly neutralized the parasite in Dad's head, I feel asleep in more or less uncomfortable swivel chair, but I was soon startled awake by Dad thrashing on the table.  It took a minute for my mind to catch up with my body, but Dad was clearly alarmed by being strapped down to a table.  His eyes found me and my heart almost leaped out of my chest as he said,

"Johnny."  

Despite the excitement that had been coursing through my body, I calmly told Dad that he was in Watchtower in Star City.  He asked how he got there.  That was a long story and one I was still too tired to fully explain.  Dad told me that the last place he remembered being in was a cage in the middle of a warehouse.  That time when I tried making him remember something about me and he started experiencing pain.  I wanted to ask him where he'd been for the past year and a half (well I know where he was for at least part of that time, but I thought at the time that telling him about my involvement with the Bratva would have been a lot to take in).  I wanted to ask if he remembered anything beyond finding himself in a cage.  I wanted to ask if he remembered trying to kill me.  So many questions filled my mind, but all I brought myself to say was, 

"I'm going to uncuff you, Dad," I told him slowly.  "Can I trust you not to pounce on me if I do?"  As soon as it came out, I quickly felt like it was an awkward question and Dad's bewildered look only intensified that feeling.  

Though nervous, I uncuffed Dad and he took a moment to massage his wrists and ankles.  Dad took a moment to look me over.  A lot has happened in the past year and a half.  Dad's still taller than me, but I feel like I've matured a bit.  Purple and black outfit was mostly the same except for a few upgrades such as more bulletproof material and kryptonite emitters for when I am going up against a Kryptonian.  He looked at my hair which was in my eyes somewhat and he told me I needed a haircut.  That was probably true.  He could have used one too, because his hair was long enough that it could have been tied into a ponytail.  I still don't understand why Mom didn't cut Dad's hair while he was in his comatose state; she was perfectly okay with shaving him.  Maybe she wanted him to look like Chris Hemsworth.

I couldn't help myself.  I pulled Dad into a fierce hug.  He didn't seem to really understand what was going on, but he could tell that he must have been away for quite some time.  A bit of an understatement, but those were his words.  He asked if we could go home and as much as I wanted that, I told him that he could really use a shower first.  Thankfully, there were some clean clothes for him to wear once he got out.  Dad's been in a coma a long time, so he wasn't as strong as he used to be, so I had to guide him a little.  I was glad that I used the family's SUV to get to Watchtower.  I think it would have been a little awkward trying to fit both Dad and Artemis into my Audi.  

It was just after sunrise and I correctly assumed that the drug I slipped in Mom's drink hadn't worn off yet, so she was still out of it.  We got to the house and Dad took his time as he entered his house.  He didn't seem to know what happened last year, nor did I share why he was in a coma yet, but he did seem to feel like he was stepping into his house for the first time in a long time.  The first things he noticed were the baby proofing stuff.  He turned to me and I smiled happily.  Quietly, Dad followed me up the stairs as I led him to Thea's nursery.  

I wish I could describe Dad's look as he stepped into my little sister's nursery.  It was that kind of joy that was so powerful, it hurt.  Dad was smart enough to realize that his own daughter didn't know him yet, even if Mom and I have been leaving pictures of him all around for Thea to see and familiarize herself with, so he was careful about his approach.  Careful not to wake my little sister, I gently lifted her out of her crib and eased her into Dad's arms.  I have seen Dad get emotional only a handful of times in my life and this was one of those times.  

"She looks just like your mother," breathed Dad.  

Yeah, if Mom still has all her baby fat and has a pitifully small bit of hair and drools like a maniac, but I didn't say that for risk of ruining Dad's moment.  

While Dad was softly introducing himself to the critter who had no clue what he was saying, I stepped out of the room for a moment and nearly ran head on into Mom who Artemis must have waken up given she was following her.  I quickly covered Mom's mouth with my hand, even as she squirmed angrily, both at me drugging her and my appearance as I was still in my Purple Arrow outfit.  I think she would have kept squirming if she hadn't heard Dad singing a gentle lullaby to Thea.  Mom froze where she stood and I cautiously removed my hand from her mouth.  Her green eyes glistened as she looked from the doorway that was a few feet away to me and back again.  With my best incandescent smile, I took her hand and she let me lead her into Thea's nursery.  When her eyes landed on Dad, she gasped audibly.

Dad must have heard it, because he turned around with Thea still cradled in his arms and my parents locked eyes for the first time in the longest time.

"Oliver?" Mom breathed tearfully.

Sadly, Dad didn't fully understand Mom's expression.  As far as he knew so far, he had just been away for a long time for reasons unexplained.  Or at least there were some details that he had yet to disclose.  He smiled that toothy, comical smile of his and Mom rushed into his arms, sobbing.  I say rushed, but she was gentle considering there was a ten-month-old baby in his arms.  Mom untangled one of her arms from Dad to beckon me to join the hug.  I have to say, as I joined that hug, I felt like I had regained something that had been missing for too long and I was suddenly whole again.  No, better than whole.  Thea was in the picture now.  I felt complete.  

Pretty soon though, Thea ruined the moment as she woke up and started crying.  She didn't know Dad's touch yet.  As upset as I was for Thea ruining the moment, I took her from Dad and she almost immediately stopped crying.  

"Don't worry Thea," I cooed.  "The big scary man that Mom had her arms locked around isn't so bad."

"Gee, thanks," Dad grumbled, but he was soon smiling again.  

 

Over the next few weeks, Dad slowly reintegrated with his life from being with his family, getting updated on the Justice League (Clark seemed happy to have his old friend back, but I could but I think he also seemed somewhat disappointed.  Why would he be disappointed?  Dad was definitely happy to be reunited with his alien best friend.)  Dad also made a comeback with Queen Industries.  I didn't need to be in a board meeting to know that a few of them were not-so-silently wondering where Dad had been for last eighteen months.  Even so, Dad quickly got the company back on its feet.  Right now, it's actually in a competitive state with Luthor Industries.

I wish I could get Lex Luthor off the back of my mind.  He's a person who tends to make good on his promises and I've been extra careful about watching my back whenever I go out on a patrol.  I told Mom what I did to the research division that supposedly had Dad's mind on a leash and while she admired what I did, she was also very worried.  She went so far as to make me promise to cut back on patrolling.  I hate to admit it, but it was one of those times where we were on the same page.

Dad seemed to have an easy reintegrating himself for the most part.  He got a haircut, he's been getting his strength back (although he hasn't gotten back into the Green Arrow business yet), Thea is warming up to him.  We actually got a family photo, all four of us, a couple of weeks ago.  However, there have been some incidents.  

A week ago, I was up late playing video games online with Felicity, Dig, and Aimee and I decided to call it quits for night--at two in the morning--I was on my way to the kitchen to get a late-night snack when I walked past Mom and Dad's bedroom and I found Dad strangling Mom.  Dad was strangling Mom.  My instincts took over and, not even taking a moment to channel fear or calmness into Dad, I sprinted into the room, grabbed a lamp from Mom's nightstand and smashed it over Dad's head.  Sorry, Daddy.  I wasn't terribly sorry about it at the time.  Almost the same time that I was cradling a reasonably terrified Mom in my arms, Clark breezed in.  For a guy who seems to have Mom LoJacked, he isn't very punctual sometimes.  

Since I was originally heading there anyway, I steered Mom to the kitchen after she pulled on her night robe and asked her what happened.  Clark pulled out an ice pack and Mom pressed it to her throat as she explained that she had no idea.  She was fast asleep and the next thing she knew, Dad was strangling her and saying "Kill me.  Kill me.  Kill me." over and over again.  We didn't like doing it, but we handcuffed him to the bed and Mom slept in one of the guest bedrooms.  Clark offered to stay overnight just to be safe.  Okay, I guess.  

When morning came, Dad asked what happened.  He seemed to have no memory of strangling Mom, but when he saw the swelling on Mom's neck, if it was already beginning to heal at its rapid rate, he felt awful.

Something similar happened a few days ago, although this time I was the victim and I came closer to dying than Mom did before Clark came in and knocked Dad out with a flick of his finger.  It still amazes me sometimes how Clark can do so much with so little effort.  He has moved my piano more than once.  

Dad might be home and while I have every reason to believe that the parasite in his head is no longer working, I can't say the same for psychological effects.  I overheard Mom and Clark talking it over.  Tomorrow they are planning an intervention.  I hope talking about at least some of the things that he remembers will help Dad somewhat.  

We'll see what happens.  Maybe he can give us an idea of what happened the night he didn't come home from the airport.


	26. Chapter Twenty-Six

July 2030

 

Dear Diary,

 

Dad was clearly reluctant to take a trip down memory lane.  Mom and I haven't exactly had the best year-and-a-half either, but Dad had it worse.  Even so, when we sat him down in the sitting room with Clark and Lois, who was in town on business, he was willing to shed some light on what happened.  

He had just arrived at the airport and he was getting into his car with the Christmas gifts he had for Mom and I, but before he could react, a black van showed up and someone got out and knocked him out cold.  I almost teased him for not being more alert, but it was Christmas and he had hands full of presents.  We never got those presents and nor were they anywhere near Dad's car when the police investigated the scene.  Dad seemed very irate about that.  He had gotten Mom a pair of topaz earrings to commemorate Thea being conceived (Mom smiled warmly at that revelation and, I'll admit, I thought that was quite special too), he had got me a new watch to replace my old one, and there were a few other souvenirs from his business trip that he couldn't quite remember.

To compensate, he took us shopping the next day.  Instead of topaz, he got Mom peridot earrings since Thea was born in August.

So when Dad woke up--actually he was awoken by cold water being poured over him--he found himself in dark room save for a weak light next to the doorway.  It was windowless and he had no idea where he was.  He didn't have to say it for us to know that he was putting on a brave front as he asked the person in the room where he was and what they wanted.  He also made one of his ill-timed attempts at humor by saying that it was very rude to kidnap someone on Christmas Eve.  He wondered aloud where this person's holiday spirit was.  Was Santa too unkind the year before?

He couldn't see the person's face, but from the checkered floor he was on to the emblem on the person's shoulder...he was captured by Checkmate.  Checkmate!  We've looked everywhere for Dad.  How could we miss Checkmate headquarters in the Rockies?  Officially, that castle is abandoned.  Strictly off-limits and is even a no-fly zone.  No wonder we never found him.  

So the person didn't answer any of Dad's questions.  In fact, she barely spoke at all save for "Welcome home," before leaving the room and turning off the light, leaving Dad in total darkness and dead quietness.  He had no bed, or even a cot...all he had was a bucket to relieve himself with.  He had no idea how long he was in that room.  Eventually, he lost count of the irregular meals he was given to be able to tell the number of days that passed based on those alone.  Clever, I thought, but I didn't say that out loud.  He was in darkness for so long, he said that at one point or another, he might as well have forgotten what the back of his hand looked like.  The bucket he relieved himself with was switched out every so often by a machine within the room.  Solitary confinement is psychologically damaging already and something that I once wrote a lengthy paper on describing its effects and my stance against it, but having spent what must have been weeks in total darkness save for the occasional light that shone through the slit where his meals were slipped through?  That's just torture.  Dad even said that he spent so long in the darkness that the little bit of light that came through when he was given his meals seemed uncomfortably bright.  

Talking about had begun to upset Dad at this point and Mom offered her hand.  She even told him that he didn't have to continue if he didn't want to.  As much as I wanted to know more, I agreed.  Even so, Dad insisted he was okay.

Eventually, a couple of big men came into his room one day.  He had been in darkness so long that the light, even though it must have been too weak to even provide enough reading light, that he had to squeeze his eyes shut, as if he were being blinded.  His own voice must have sounded unfamiliar in his ears as he weakly asked where they were dragging him off to.  Turns out, they had dragged him to a set of showers, provided with a bar of soap and clean clothes.  All that torturous confinement (seven weeks he would later find out) and now they were offering him a shower and clothes?  He showered and slipped into the clothes.  At least they were his size, although he wasn't given any footwear.  When he got out, the two men didn't even cuff him.  They probably didn't even have to given how weak Dad was.

They led him to an office and practically tossed him inside before they closed the door behind him.  He came face to face with the same woman that Mom and I saw talking to Lex Luthor a few months ago.  Cynthia Waller.  I would have thought she would have greeted him with a drawn-out monologue, but I guess that that only happens in the movies.  

It was Dad who spoke first.  He asked the simplest question.  "Why am I here?"

Cynthia stopped reading her book and had glanced up at him thoughtfully.  She was glad he asked.  Twenty years ago, her mother had a vision of the Justice League and the JLA working exclusively for the U.S. government.  That vision was never made into a reality and to make things worse, the Vigilante Registration Act was terminated.  Dad coolly explained that while he paid his taxes just like anybody else, the Green Arrow and all his allies did not belong to any one government.  He even stated that if her plan was to do something similar to what her mother, Amanda Waller, had tried to do, she was likely to meet the same tragic end.  Probably not the best thing he could have said.  

Cynthia turned on a computer monitor and, to his horror and to that of mine and Mom's, she showed him footage of _my_ activities.  Cynthia said that the Purple Arrow was a spunky teenager and he showed a lot of promise.  She hated the idea of him finding his head missing from his shoulders (she was also somehow aware of Mom's abilities, although she didn't seem terribly aware of everything  _I_ could do).  That hit a soft spot on Dad.  His threat for slow death was cut off by Cynthia casually reminding him that he could barely walked without a wobble in his step and she had a drone with a missile aimed at our house at all times.  Clark mentioned that he remembered seeing a strange aircraft circling our house at one point or another.  It was probably a good thing for Mom and I that he never did anything to it.  

Submissively, albeit painfully, Dad asked what she wanted from him.  Cynthia was again glad he asked.  She wanted his help.  She wanted him to work for her, possibly provide names for a number of heroes, including a few that Mom had nurtured and mentored.  Dad said he'd die first.  Kudos for putting up the brave front, but then Mom and I would have truly lost him.  Cynthia seemed to recognize that fact.  She asked him what kind of family man would he be if he wasn't willing to do everything he could to get back to his family.  

Dad did try.  His memory had quite a few gaps at this point, but it turns out that all the times that Mom and I thought we saw him...was _did_ see him.  Perhaps it was for that reason that they put the parasite in his head.  The one that we can't even remove without killing him.  From what Dad was able to tell us, all he could surmise was that he was chosen to be the guinea pig for an experimental mind control device.  And given my findings, it was developed by Luthor Industries.  

At this point, Dad completely broke down and confessed that there several moments where he thought that he'd never see us again.  To say that that feeling was mutual would be a gross understatement.  I joined him and Mom on the couch and Aunt Lois came over and eased Thea into Dad's arms.  I'm happy to say that at this point, Thea is familiar with Dad and she doesn't cry when he holds her.  I'm sure if she could speak, she would have been screaming "Who the hell is this man!  Mom, Johnny, get him away from me!" when Dad first held her.  I could even say that she is becoming more comfortable in his arms than she was in Clark's arms.  Also, she walked for the first time last week and I managed to get it on camera as Mom, Dad, and I sat in a circle and encouraged her to walk towards us.  I shared that video with everyone on Facebook.  My friends, including Tess, were all excited for my little sister.  

I also think that Thea might not enjoy crowds all that much.  When we went into town for the Fourth of July parade, she wouldn't stop crying.  Well to be fair, even I had to massage my ears a little as the antique firetrucks rolled by.  And both Thea and Artemis didn't enjoy the barrage of fireworks when the sun went down.  Dad held Thea and Artemis alternated between trying to hide under my bed or hopping _onto_ my bed and shoving her snout under the crook of my arm.  "It's okay, Arty," I told her soothingly.  "Those evil fireworks won't get you."  She's a very brave dog, but I've yet to meet a dog who doesn't get a little uncomfortable by the constant boom of fireworks.  

On a more unsettling note, Lex Luthor invited us over to his penthouse for dinner a few days ago.  I don't think any of us felt obliged to accept his invitation, but at the same time, it was probably best that we did.  Aunt Lois was still in town on business and she offered to babysit her goddaughter.  Why did I have to go?  I had plans!  I was going to pick up some stuff from the grocery store and commandeer Aimee's kitchen.  I can afford the best restaurants in town, but my favorite dates are the ones where Aimee lets me talk her into cooking dinner.  Either I go over her house or she comes over to mine and sometimes we goof off with or without a few steamy kisses as we make dinner.  Usually whatever we make turns out well without catastrophe, but that doesn't mean we haven't had a couple of catastrophes here and there.  Yes, that would have been _so_ much more fun than having dinner with the folically challenged billionaire.

It was tense dinner, at least for Mom and I.  Dad and Lex Luthor did most of the talking and Mr. Luthor remarked that it's interesting that Dad has reappeared after being missing for so many months.  Dad shrugged and almost smugly replied that he must have a guardian angel.  Mr. Luthor doesn't miss much, so Dad was smart enough not to give me a surreptitious wink.  I--and Mom--had more trouble hiding our smiles.  

That whole time, I had to fight the temptation to use my powers on Mr. Luthor and make him squirm with fear and agony.  He deserves it and so much worse.  I usually have strict reservations about harming women beyond knocking them out if they are trying to kill me, but Cynthia Waller is an exception.  She deserves way more than the psychological trauma I can inflict.  Clark might admonish me for those feelings, but is it really wrong to feel that sometimes there should be a compromise in our morals?  I like to think that I have very high morals, but life has taught me so far that having high morals can do more harm than being...less moral.  Henry James Olsen might still be alive if Mom and Clark had just killed Davis Bloom all those years ago.  

Mom, Dad, and I left Mr. Luthor's penthouse with a polite farewell, but I could tell that they were as happy as I was to be away from him.  Lex Luthor can be very eager to please sometimes.  Whether it was from a feeling of guilt or if there was some ulterior motive in it, he spent the better part of the evening offering Dad a partnership deal between their companies, almost completely ignoring Mom and I.  We even got into our own, more lighthearted and fun conversation while Dad and Mr. Luthor rambled on and on.  Dad had mentioned on the way home that the partnership deal was more than likely to never happen. 

Why that worries me so much, I have no idea.  

The more I think of it, the more I get this unshakable feeling that something bad is going to happen.  I just hope that I'll be prepared when it does.


	27. Chapter Twenty-Seven

August 2030

 

Dear Diary,

 

Little Thea had her first birthday last week.  It was really cute.  Twelve months and too small to enjoy her birthday cake without getting a bad sugar rush, but at least she managed to blow out her candle after we sang her happy birthday.  The little critter seemed quite happy.  At least I think so because she didn't cry once that entire day.  By way of presents, she was given building blocks to play with.  Speaking of which, now that I think of it, I'm happy that she never got into my Legos.  It's probably a good thing that I kept most of my childhood toys in a separate room from my bedroom.  I'd feel awful if Thea hurt herself because I left my smaller things lying around.  She did manage to stick a calligraphy pen up her nose once.  Without the cap on.  It was my pen, but thankfully Mom wasn't as upset with me as I though she'd be.  Obviously, she reminded me to be more careful, but beyond that she wasn't too hard on me.  

Without trial and error, how can we learn?

A few weeks into Dad's return, Thea started calling him "Dada."  It was really cute the first time I heard her call him that and Dad got visibly emotional.

Dad made a return as the Green Arrow recently.  Given the fact that the last time he made an appearance, I was badly wounded, the media was very skeptical of Star City's knight in shining leather.  To a degree, I feel that the news article I read (it was written by one of Mom's Register colleagues instead of her, much to everyone's annoyance) was a but harsh.  According to Mom, this Star City Register journalist was never really a pro-Green Arrow person to begin with, so it's fair to say that the harsh article talking about "the wannabe Robin Hood who seems to think every night is Halloween'" was more than a little biased.  Dad thwarted a hostage situation at an elementary school and saved a number of small children, one of whom was nearly hospitalized because of a severe asthma attack and he didn't have his inhaler.  I think that that should be cause for praise not criticism.  

Well, that was one of those times where I went out as the Purple Arrow (who is actually on better terms with the media than Dad as of current) to intimidate rather than as a hero.  I found the journalist in her office at the Register and she mocked my outfit.  She called it a dress.  It's a tunic!  I filled her with so much fear that she wet herself.  I told her that if she didn't write kinder articles about the Green Arrow, I would bring a hammer next time and smash her computers.  I knew I could just hack into her computer and erase her files, but my threat did the trick.  The next article she wrote was kinder.  Still skeptical because of the Green Arrow's recent history, but kinder all the same.  

Mom and Dad unsurprisingly admonished me for my methods, but I also knew them well enough that they glowed with pride as they read the journalist's article about Dad.  

Much to the delight of Aimee, I really feel that I've been doing better lately.  Having Dad back has been great.  I never thought I'd love hearing him lecture and reprimand me.  I was honestly listening to every word Dad told me, but I was so giddy and my smiles were so incandescent that I had trouble showing that I was being respectful.  Dad tried to look stern, but my powers spread to him and all he could do was mirror my smiles.  What can I say?  Dad had been away without explanation for so long and he's here now, so really, I'm doing my best to enjoy every moment of it.

Lately when I've hung out with Aimee and our friends, I've been borderline uncharacteristically chipper.  Not that they though me being happy and getting excited about everything was a crime, but before Dad came home, I was growing progressively moodier and more reserved.  I was turning into Clark!  Well, mostly like Clark, minus the awkwardness and the inability to interact with attractive women.  I let my friends drag me into fun stuff and I had romantic afternoons or evenings with Aimee, with or without getting intimate, but my temper became easier to trip and I was less extroverted than I normally am.  I've never been as much of a people person as Mom, or even Dad, but I've never been terribly introverted either even if I do love to read and stay within the confines of my circle of friends.

I was a mess.

Now, I've been the one to suggest something fun.  In fact, I suggested a trip to an amusement park and a few weeks ago Dad let me use the family jet to fly my friends halfway across the country to Cedar Point.  Sure there are amusement parks a lot closer, but Cedar Point has the most rides and it's Aimee's favorite.  I hate roller coasters, mostly for the wait so I bought everyone fast-lane tickets.  I offered to pay for food and drinks too, but Aimee and our friends insisted that just because I'm rich, doesn't mean I have to pay for everything.  I know better than to argue with my friends, especially Aimee.  

I also think that my being happier has been a lot easier on Mom.  After awhile with Dad's disappearance, we found ourselves fighting to urge to accept that he might never come home.  We found ourselves crying into each other's shoulders a few times and, as much as I hate to admit it, I've snapped at Mom a few times.  I know she loves to see me smile and, while I try not to just to irritate her, it's better when it's difficult to do.  I have more reasons to smile and trying not to smile has gotten very difficult.  Besides, do you have any idea how difficult it is to not crack a smile when Chloe Sullivan-Queen captures you into that ear-to-ear smile of hers?  Sometimes I wonder if I'm not the only one who has powers that can affect people's emotions.  

Luthor Industries, lately, is being overshadowed by Queen Industries.  I'm more journalistically inclined than I am business-inclined, but it is my family and it's a real pride boost when you know that your family's company is doing well.  Sometimes, I leave the dinner table when Mom and Dad start talking business and economics.  Mom isn't terribly business-inclined either, but having built the Isis Foundation to a nationwide level, she can be very shrewd in business.  Shrewd enough that sometimes Dad comes to her when tackling business ventures.  

My mom and dad are a really good team.  

I didn't think this was going to happen, but I do think that I'm going to be starting my final year of high school on a happy note.  Then it's caps and gowns.  And the world beyond.

Wait.

That's actually kind of scary!

 

 

 


	28. Chapter Twenty-Eight

August 2030

 

Dear Diary,

 

...

...

...

 

Life can be extremely cruel sometimes.  I've been sitting here by my piano for the last three hours and I haven't played much.  The little that I've tried to play...I've made more mistakes than I think I have made since I began learning the piano years back.  Sure, there are a couple of mistakes here and there when I am teaching myself a new song, but not like this.  The songs I've been trying to play, I can play with my eyes closed.  I can barely form a decent improvisation without striking a discordant note.  

There's a reason why, but it hurts to write it down.  

I might as well try.

What's a good summer without ending it with a last hurrah?  My friends and I all got particularly antsy as the summer drew to a close.  We were starting our last year of high school.  We had a year of school left and we were already getting nostalgic over everything that has happened in the last three years.  The drama, the tests we hated, the teachers we loved and teased and disliked, thinking of some of the silly stuff we did.  We shared a laugh over some of the things I did with my powers.  Using them on teachers in ways that made it hard for us to stifle our giggles and on classmates who got on our nerves...good stuff.  We even thought about how I might use them this year.  Maybe finish the school year off with an outrageous display of my powers?  That might not be a particularly good idea, but it is plant a good image in our heads.  Maybe the Purple Arrow could pay a visit to our least favorite teachers and have some fun, harass them a little bit, overstep the line of being a hero and amuse myself by punishing our least teachers for four years' worth of torment and being boring.  In that case, we might even offer fruit baskets to the teachers we liked the most.  Maybe not.  Maybe that's a little too much.

My friends and I shared a last hurrah by her taking me to one of our favorite lakes.  I don't why, but it in some ways, it's more fun to go swimming in a lake rather than a public pool.  Maybe it's the acoustics?  There can be lots of people at both settings but, at a lake it seems more relaxed.  We took my family's motorboat and we took it out to the middle of the lake before we went into the water.  We swam until we were exhausted and then we went back to shore where we roasted hamburgers on a portable grill we brought.  It was sunny and not all of us survived.  Aimee got a little sunburned and she was very irritable about it.  Mostly because it made holding her even in an appropriate manner painful for her.  Her irritation was intensified by her dad being home, so I couldn't join her for a cold shower.  Then again, not that I mind cold showers after a hot day, but I'd rather be able to touch Aimee when her skin doesn't hurt.

I guess that was my next-to-last hurrah, because Dad wanted to take me to Hawaii for a little vacation before school began.  Plus he had some business to take care of down there.  I've been to Hawaii enough times that I'm on a first-name basis with a few people.  I'm God-awful at surfing, but cliff diving is fun.  There are plenty of places near home where I go cliff diving, sometimes with Aimee even if it takes considerable convincing to get her to come down, but it's also a bit of a treat to go cliff diving in places like Hawaii where I don't get to go too often.  I don't have any hula shirts, but I do indulge myself in some of the stuff that goes on when Dad is busy with a meeting or two.  

As per usual, a few young ladies approached me, flirted with me, and tried to make conversation.  Some of them I engaged in very lively conversation.  Some were respectful when I told them that I was in a committed relationship and we simply got to talking.  Some of them, the ones who never visited Hawaii before, I was able to offer them some advice on places to go while they were there.  Some of the more environmentally enthusiastic people I spoke with agreed with me that it was a good move a few years ago when the  _Arizona_ Memorial was closed down for a time while a team went in a siphoned all the remaining oil from the wreck.  Now it's not as much of an environmental threat as it once was.  It might have been Tess that got me to caring so much about the Earth and it's environmental health.  The world has been getting better about developing more efficient renewable power sources.  

Renewable versus nonrenewable power sources is a boring subject to me, but I know a lot about it due to having had to research it for class once or twice.  

When Dad got through with his meetings, he took me out to one of the restaurants we really like.  He seemed a bit tense during our meal.  It's understandable.  After being gone so long, I assumed it would take a bit of time for him to get back into the loop of the business world.  Over the last couple of months, he had been noticeably weary of all the business meets and sometimes Mom still has to shoo the press away from asking him about where he'd been and what happened to him.  Being a journalist herself, Mom is not immune to forgetting to respect people's boundaries, but when it comes to the people she cares about the most, she is very protective and due to her being a well-respected journalist (and probably simply for being married to Oliver Queen) people generally listen to her.  

Things were mostly very smooth, until it came time for Dad and I to leave for home.  We were on our way to the airport when we realized that the doors were locked from the outside and we couldn't get out.  The next thing we knew, we both became incredibly sleepy and we fell unconscious.  When we woke up, we were on the Queen jet somewhere over the Pacific between Oahu and Star City. 

Dad asked if I was okay to which I told him I was.  I tried getting up from my seat and as I did, the plane rumbled and started moving strangely.  Startled, I stumbled towards the cockpit and shoved the door open.  There were no pilots!  Piloting is still something that I am working on, but I knew enough to know that the autopilot wasn't on.  I grabbed the controls and did my best to steady the plane.  As I did so, Dad joined me in the cockpit.  I remembered the thing attached to my wrist and when I got up, it must have deactivated the autopilot.  

Speaking of which, where were the pilots, we wondered?  Why were we rendered unconscious as we arrived at the airstrip?  Dad took over the controls and I swept the plane up and down, looking for clues.  What I did find, in the back towards the bathroom, was horrifying.  It was a bomb!  Worse it was a  _nuclear_ bomb!  I rushed back to the cockpit to warn Dad, but it seems like he had his own finding.  With a resigned look, he handed me a phone and I pressed the play button and the voicemail began to play back.

"By now, I believe you two have reached a halfway point between Honolulu and Star City," the voice was disguised, but given the logo on the bomb, I had no doubt that it was Lex Luthor.  "You've probably noticed the bomb that you two are sharing a ride with to Star City and I'll tell you a story.  Star City, a port city full of life, promise, and excitement to those who come to it, but to those who live there?  A wasteland full of crime and corruption and vigilantes who seem to not understand that the law is to be upheld by the police.  You may or may not be aware of this, Mr. Queen, but while you just a Robin Hood wannabe with a hacker wife, your son seems to have suffered that corruption."  I closed my eyes momentarily as Dad fixed his gaze on me.  "Jonathan Sullivan-Queen, an upstanding boy with parading around as a wannabe hero, but is really just a Russian mob lackey destabilizing other organized crime syndicates while they remain on top, reaping the benefits.  You've raised a criminal, Ollie.  

"Now in regards to that bomb, Star City needs cleansing.  Don't bother trying to deactivate it; it has a failsafe and any attempt to disarm it will set it off, killing you both.  And don't bother calling the Man of Steel for help; the plane is full of so much kryptonite, he won't be able to get within thirty feet of it.  The autopilot is set for Star City and you two have a few of options.  You can both fly to Star City and be killed along with the rest of that city, you two can fly it to the middle of nowhere whereupon you'll both still die, or one of you can pilot it away and the other can save himself with the parachute on one of the seats in the passenger area.  And don't bother attempting a tandem jump; it's not that kind of parachute.  And you to better make up your minds.  The timer is ticking and Star City is getting closer."

The message cut out and it took me a couple of minutes to process all of that information.  "This is all my fault," I said.  

Dad frowned.  He explained to me that he knew about my involvement with the Bratva.  He reminded me that it was a dangerous partnership, but he also recognized that they have stayed out of the Queens' affairs.  After that, I told him that I just wanted my father back.  I destroyed all the research pertaining to the parasite in Dad's head so that Luthor Industries could not repeat the project.  Dad deserved to be there for my little sister.  I was willing to fly the plane of course where it would explode somewhere away from harm.  I got busy trying to contact someone and, before I do anything, I felt a sharp blow of pain to my head.  

I came to maybe a half hour later and I found myself strapped to the parachute.  I saw Dad was at the controls and he had contacted someone who must have given him a set of coordinates that was away from harm.  

Was was he doing?  Dad had only been home for a few months and he couldn't do this!  Dad smiled at me solemnly and told me, "I'd rather your mother lose another husband than see her outlive her son."  He went on to tell me how proud of me he was and never once felt disappointed that I didn't go for a green suit.  He made me promise to be my own hero.  He made me promise to take care of my mother and sister.  

I swore to all those things and I hugged my father one last time.  After that, we found the escape hatch towards the back of the fuselage.  The fact that it wasn't even opened yet made me realize that the pilots were never on the plane to begin with.  The plane must have been rigged to be flown by remote control or something like that.  We opened the escape hatch and I gave Oliver Queen one last look.  There were tears in both our eyes.  

"See you later, Purple Arrow," and Dad shoved me out of the plane.  I was very tempted to not pull the strap, to let myself fall to the water and die on impact.  I couldn't do that to my family.  I pulled the strap and I said Clark's name.  "Please help me," I told him.  Even as I safely descended to the water, a few miles away from Star City, but close enough that it was in view, Superman swept me up in his arms, while also relinquishing the parachute.  Dad must have contacted him, because the look he gave me was one of sorrow and resignation.  As he flew me away, I saw a bright flash of light in the distance and the last thing I saw of my father was a mushroom cloud.  

"See you around, Daddy," I whispered brokenly.  Clark's grip on me became more of comfort rather than simply holding me to him as he flew.  

I feel like I became very numb.  As Clark flew me to my house, Mom came running out even as Clark and I came up the steps.  There were no words to convey what we felt.  Instead rushing into me and pulling me into a soul-shattering hug, Mom came to a slow stop a few inches from me.  We just stood there, staring into the green depths of each others' eyes.  Mom reached up and touched my cheek.  It was wet from my tears and I didn't even notice.  I felt weak and I sank to my knees and Mom came down with me and we tangled ourselves up in each others' arms as the grips of sorrow engulfed us, drowning us to the point where I worry that we will never fully recover.  

Dad's sacrifice quickly circulated through the city and beyond and he was recognized posthumously for his actions.  We tried to keep his funeral service as quiet as we could, limiting the guest list to family and friends both within and beyond the Justice League.  His headstone, at the very bottom read "Green Arrow."  Aimee knew I needed my space so she didn't approach me.  She just reminded me that she was here for me.

As school began again, I received more condolences than I was comfortable with.  Several people, even ones I didn't normally get along with, offered some sort of "I'm sorry for your loss."  The girls who usually tried to win my affection didn't bother me beyond offering me a bunch of condolence cards.  It was still a cry for my affection.  My friends didn't force me into things, but they continued to try and simply be there for me.  To show me that they were willing to help me through my pain.  

To tell the truth, I just want to be left alone.  The only thing that will make me happy right now is Lex Luthor's head on a silver platter.  If he was my enemy before, he is now so much worse.  

I'm going to kill Lex Luthor. 


	29. Chapter Twenty-Nine

September 2030

 

Dear Diary,

 

I wouldn't call myself a big fan of Pink Floyd, but I do like the song "Comfortably Numb."  It's a well-structured song from a ingeniously structured album and as much as I enjoy it, it doesn't really convey what I feel.

Over the past month, Clark and Lois and a few of Mom and I's friends have stopped by a few times, trying to offer us a bit of comfort.  We are quite grateful to everyone for trying to be there for us, but how effective are the words "I'm sorry for your loss" really?  They are empty words that steadily grow more and more redundant each time they are uttered.  From the people we care about, those who might have been well acquainted with Dad, it has a little bit of meaning because they share a certain amount of that grief.  

Oliver Queen was a man who lost his parents at a young age, grew up without proper nurture to the point that he was allowed to be a bully, was marooned on an island for a couple of years, and came back a changed man.  While he maintained his affable, albeit promiscuous exterior during the day, proving himself to be more and more of a shrewd businessman, he turned himself into a hero at night.  Well, a poor excuse for a hero at the time.  He was more of a glorified Robin Hood wannabe who stole already illegally-obtained priceless items from rich people and donated them to some anonymous charitable function.  Steal from the rich, give to the poor.  Back in that day, he was more willing to kill if necessary and he was more antihero than hero.  

With a bit of intervention from Clark and Mom, he turned his life around a bit and he became a more admirable hero.  Dad started the Justice League and he helped solidify the superheroes in the world as something to be welcomed, not hunted down like a bunch of criminals.  He even helped Clark realize his full potential as a hero.  Mom had a huge role in that too, but Dad helped as well.  

Those people, heroes and people associated with Dad in a similar fashion have more right to express their condolences.  Other people such as past business partners and board members of Queen Industries and just random people have less right to express their condolences.  From them, it just becomes a listless noise on repeat, playing over and over again like a recent chart-topper on the radio until another comes along and that one fades into the endless mess that more noise.  

I would like very much for it to stop.

Aunt Lois tries to contact me quite a bit, but I've yet to answer one of her emails, phone calls, or Skype calls.  In fact, it's gotten to the point that Mom has confronted me on more than one occasion to try and get me to speak to someone.  I have barely even spoken more than one or two sentences to her.  It seems the only person I've offered more than minimal interaction with has been Thea.  I hold her, I read to her, I play with her, but at the same time I barely smile at her even when she tries to get out "Johnny."  Usually hearing her say my name in that little voice that she is still learning to use makes my heart sing--it still does--but I don't let it engulf me as I ought to.  

Why am I not letting myself enjoy the small bits of affection from the ones I love?  Why am I ignoring Aunt Lois--the only woman close enough to Mom's age that never gets on my nerves?  At least not more than what fills me with amusement?  Why am I shutting down Mom when she tries to grieve with me?  When she tries to offer me her hand or some comfort coffee?  Why do I get more annoyed than usual when Clark comes by (which is more often lately)?  Why am I closing myself off from my friends?

There's another thing, I broke up Aimee.  

To say she was upset would be a big understatement.  She didn't physically harm me like I thought she would, but rather left me with the words, "I know you're grieving and I want to help you through it like you did for me when my parents split.  But if not...I'll be here when you do."  I watched from a window as she barely made it to her car before she fell to her knees in tears.  

Mom didn't have any kind words to say for what I did.  Aimee means so much to me and I to her and closing myself off from her...Mom had no way of finishing that thought, at least not in any way that would fully express the stupidity and hurtfulness of my actions.  No doubt, Aunt Lois would throw a fit when Mom told her what I did.  She helped me quite a bit when it came to my relationship with Aimee.  It probably does make me a dick, but so what?

I was numb.

Not comfortably numb.  

It's that kind of numbness that's so severe, it hurts.  A few times, I've found myself desperate to feel something.  A week ago, I accidentally sliced my finger while I was chopping onions for a dinner I was making (it seems my current state of mind hasn't marred my culinary skills) and I barely noticed.  Mom came in a few minutes later and found me just staring at my bleeding hand, much to her horror.  

"I cut myself," I said blandly.  

Mom rushed over to me and half-dragged me to the nearest bathroom and spewed several words of worry as she gingerly cleaned my hand and put a band-aid on it.  She called Clark and asked him to take over making dinner.  Clark has his own life to lead; do you really need to keep bothering him, Mother?  At least she was smart enough to know that she's not as good of a cook as me or Clark.  But still, why keep bothering him?  It's not as if traveling between Metropolis and Star City is a hassle for him, but he has his own responsibilities in Metropolis without overburdening himself with Mom and I's grief.

I've spoken to Tess a few times and she just insists that I stop worrying.  Although as soon as she started asking me questions about how I was doing, I cut the conversations short by hanging up on her.  

At school, things are average for the most part.  I'm still doing very well with my classes, being in a lot of AP classes and keeping up with my homework.  I might as well say that homework is the only thing I do when I am not doing chores or taking care of Thea when Mom has a late meeting.  When it comes to my peers, I've gone from being a lively, affable guy with a wicked sense of humor and a mostly friendly attitude who sometimes used his charm to get stories out of people as per my journalistic curiosity, to being a reserved, closed-off sourpuss who barely opens his mouth beyond whenever a teacher calls on him.  The ladies barely drool over me these days.  I guess girls aren't all like the girls you see in teen romance novels that fall for tall, brooding guys with a dark secret and are generally too dangerous to be in a relationship with.  Some actually enjoy the company of guys who like to put a smile on people's faces which is what I am exactly the opposite of right now.  Some of the guys in my class have taken to making fun of my having apparently fallen off the pedestal I seem to have been on.  

One of them went so far as to directly making fun of my dad's death.  Huge mistake.  I lifted my eyes from my book and I fixed them on his eyes hard.  I've been so numb lately, that when I do allow myself to feel something, it has been a bit explosive.  I was so angry that, before I could do anything to calm anyone's nerves, the guy had taken a swing in a random direct, landing on a girl.  That upset the girl's boyfriend and he pounced on my tormentor.  Then other people around me started doing similar stuff and it escalated into a riot.  

My emotions were so explosive that I had caused a riot.  All I could do was sit there in that cafeteria and close my eyes as the guilt overcame me.  Even Aimee, Felicity, and Dig weren't able to escape the consequences of my actions as they started hurting people.  The school staff had to call the police and several students were hauled off in handcuffs.  For some reason, I was not one of them.  

Quite unsurprisingly, the school was closed for a week or two before students were allowed to return.  I imagine a few students were quite happy to be away from school, but online classes still continued.  Mom could only shake her head at me tearfully and refuse to say anything to me.  I had disappointed her so much that she couldn't even speak to me.  If that wasn't bad enough, she caught me trying to burn my Purple Arrow gear.  She stopped me with a little bit of help from Clark.  In an effort to save the things they knew I loved from me harming them, Clark took all of that stuff back to Metropolis with him.  

Artemis seems to have given up trying to console me in the way that dogs know how and she has been spending more time with Mom.

Sometimes, to escape the isolation, I go out on patrols.  Without my gear, all I can do it wear dark clothing and find some other way to hide my face.  Sadly, I haven't gone out with the intention of saving people.  Instead, I found myself stalking Lex Luthor, watching him, observing him to the point that I can map out his routine.  Before I did it to find out what happened to Dad, now I am doing it to find away to effectively get rid of him once and for all. 

As before, though, I haven't gotten anywhere.  Lex Luthor knows how to illustrate himself as being a servant to the people.  His charitable endeavors are heavily lauded by the media and the general public and he seems to have settled for working in tandem with Queen Industries.  Instead of an ongoing charade of one-up-manship, both companies have been building off of each other and have gone so far as to partner up in certain projects.  Noble, but doesn't excuse the crimes of Mr. Luthor.  I haven't been able to get anywhere, and it has been driving me crazy.  

That is, until I received a very interesting visit one time while I was in town.

I was met with Cynthia Waller.  I was very tempted to kill her right then and there for the part she played in my Dad's fate, but she came to me with a proposition.  She praised me for how I destroyed the research to the mind control device that was in my dad's head.  I'm seventeen and she felt it was quite an accomplishment.  She felt that I could put those skills to good use.  She wanted me to work for Checkmate.  Why should I help her?  Because I wouldn't want to see my mother and sister to be blown to kingdom come.  I do not take threats very well.  She promised that in exchange for my service, she would help me bring Lex Luthor to an end.

I was listening.

Perhaps it is time for Jonathan Sullivan-Queen to get his hands dirty.   


	30. Chapter Thirty

November 2030

 

Dear Diary,

 

Birthdays are a thing of joy.  They celebrate the day that you came into this world and every time you hear the words "Happy birthday" you feel that much more special about being in this world.  Where I'm concerned, I accept the "Happy birthday" wishes I receive from my parents' friends and from random Facebook friends, but the most special ones are always from the ones I love.  So far today, Mom, Clark, and Tess have wished me happy birthday and, I've allowed myself to smile a little.  I may even have felt a small bit of emotion...but not enough for at least Mom to feel it.  Aunt Lois and Bruce Wayne have wished me happy birthday, but neither of them were able to attend.  Most surprising of all, Aimee, Felicity and Dig, while they didn't make an appearance, they sent me a video of the three of them wishing me happy birthday.  Based on what they said, they weren't expecting me to respond or even look at the video, but I did and I smiled.  Even little Thea managed to babble something that sounded like "Happy birthday."  I doubt she knew what she was saying, but  _that_ brought tears of joy to my eyes.

The fact that I even did that, Mom was so happy she threw her arms around me.  I didn't push her away.  I might not have let myself feel much emotion lately, but I don't push the ones I love away either.  At least I don't think I do.   

I received a handful of presents this year.  Mom got me a new Nook with a few of my favorite books already on it.  Clark got me tickets to see a play at the Sydney Opera House.  I've never been to Australia.  I should have been more excited about it, but given recent events, I'm very wary of flying.  I trust Clark with my life, but even the sensation of flying is enough to leave me a little fearful, if not tearful.  I thanked him earnestly for the tickets, but I wasn't ready to travel.

He seemed a little disappointed, but he understood all the same.  He went on to remind me that whenever I was ready, all I had to do was say the word and he would fly me wherever I wanted.

Tess, she had tickets to a movie that we both wanted to see.

It was one of my quieter birthdays and turns out I was perfectly okay with that.

Although, I did receive a present from a very unexpected source.  There was no name, nor return address, but I knew where it was from.  It was sent discreetly to me, delivered to me while I was in town a few days ago instead of to my house.  It was a name and an address.  I've been given a new target to kill with no witnesses.  I've had a few targets over the past couple of months.  

Checkmate has no reservations about where and when I kill the people they tell me to kill.  If I protest for any reason, whether it's because of my own family obligations, schoolwork, or because of where my targets are, they threaten to send a missile to my house.  The place where they would send the missile is well out of Mom's tight security range, so she would never detect it.  

Just a couple of weeks ago, I was roused from a having fallen asleep reading to Thea by a phone call.  I had to kill someone.  I'm happy the outfit that Checkmate gave me hides my face entirely, because I could not bare to look into the eyes of the person I killed.  The man was a businessman in the Mafia.  I slipped into his house during the night and I found him reading to his two young children.  Adorable little twins who, as I watched them, tried to annoy their father by confusing him about which was which.  Using the technology I was given, I cut the power.  

I shot the two children.  Not with arrows, but with tranquilizers.  The Mafia man was on me in seconds.  He pulled a gun, but I was quickly able to overpower him.  Once I had him pinned, I shot him.  A few hours later, he woke up again tied to a chair.  He demanded where his family was.  I told him that they were safe.  I went on to tell him that, for his sake, he needed to disappear.  No cellphones, no internet, nothing that could be traced.  He made an empty threat towards my family and I, but I told him that they already had targets painted on their backs.  I drew a wild card and said something to him in Russian.  Thankfully, he spoke Russian and I was able to tell him of my connection to the Bratva.  They would be able to help him and his family disappear.  

How Cynthia Waller has not detected my involvement with them I have no idea, but they have been enormously helpful in smuggling the people I've supposedly killed out of the city and the country, if possible.  At first, they even offered to try and use their resources to help me with my situation, but there is nothing they can do.  They also made it very clear that if what they are doing gets any of them killed, I would be begging for death before they were finished with me.  I took their word for it.

So there I have been continuing my dangerous charade for the last couple of months.  Ms. Waller has her resources and I have mine.  However, I couldn't completely escape her demands.  

In interrogations, I have been asked to tear off people's fingernails and toenails.  I have been forced to sexually assault women in ways that gave me nightmares.  Using the bow and arrows that Checkmate gave me, I have shot people in places that didn't fatally wound them, but left them in intense pain.  I have gotten information out of people, but at the price of pain and suffering.  I've even dropped lit matches on people.  

Each time, I have been left with a worse feeling of not being able to look at my hands.  The bow they gave me is like a carrier for the Black Plague.  Once or twice, I've wanted to castrate myself.  I haven't been able to look at Mom in the eye very much.  I don't know if she feels it's still because of my lingering feelings of failure, of if she truly suspects something, but sometimes I wish I had telepathic abilities.  I don't know why I didn't inherit Mom's healing power (although, I have no memory of having so much as a cold, and I have had braces, but that's not really health-related).  If anything, what makes my powers inherited somewhat is that there is an empathic quality to them.  When Mom heals people, she takes some of that pain back on herself and sometimes it leaves her mostly dead for several hours at a time.  I can spread my emotions and plant emotions into others.  

I haven't done much of that lately, not since Dad's death, but times when I am around Cynthia Waller and anybody who works for Checkmate, I deliberately suppress it.  Who knows what they might do to me if they were aware of what I can do?  Would I become a guinea pig?  Would I be experimented on?  Would I be exterminated like some of those other meteor freaks that have disappeared?  I am not going to be one of them!  Not if I can avoid it.  And even Thea is unnaturally healthy for a child her age.  What if she's a meteor freak too?  Maybe she inherited Mom's ability.  Not that that doesn't put a smile on my face, but it makes me very protective of her.

And also, Cynthia Waller promised to help me bring down Lex Luthor.  She hasn't so much as offered me any update on that.  When I ask about it, she coolly replies, "You don't ask the questions; when we are close to bringing down Mr. Luthor, you'll be the first to know."  Bite me.  

Ironically, with each passing week, I have been left with a strange desire.  For some reason, I  _don't_ want to kill Mr. Luthor.  I want him to suffer, yes, but maybe killing him would be too kind.  I've never killed anybody out of vengeance.  I keep going through it in my head over and over again, but each time the thought of Mom's face when she found out I did such a thing pains me.  She'll already hate me for the things I've done while working with Checkmate, but if I kill Lex Luthor?  Will she even want to look at me?  Will she even want me in my house?  

I will find a way to bring down Lex Luthor, but I am also going to find away to expose Checkmate and all of its crimes.  Checkmate thinks they have me in a choke hold, but I will find a way out of it.  


	31. Chapter Thirty-One

December 2030

 

Dear Diary,

 

In celebration of the upcoming holidays in a week, as expected, a lot of people are hosting their own get-togethers.  Mom, being a high profile journalist, has been invited to several journalists parties and a few of them have also included Clark and Aunt Lois.  They have always been the parties that Mom enjoyed, being with people she knew and who she could get into endless conversations about potential articles, or even commenting on each other's articles.  If I'm not on babysitting duty, she invites me to come along usually.  Those people, fellow journalists, have always been the people that she could surround herself with and not feel like an outsider.  Sometimes, she actually feels worshiped.  I wouldn't surprised.  She has three Pulitzer awards and has been nominated for several more.  Plus, she's interviewed Superman more than anybody in the country.  Sometimes, I wonder if that is one of the things that ruined Clark's relationship with Aunt Lois.  She has interviewed him a number of times, but Mom has always been the first person that he turned to for an interview.  She has interviewed him more than she has interviewed the Green Arrow. 

Mom has interviewed the Green Arrow on quite a few occasions, but as much as Dad was a people person, interviews were not his thing.  Clark isn't too big on interviews either, but he's a lot less bumbling and awkward when he puts on those blue tights.  Plus, Mom and Clark have always been comfortable around each other.  She's a reporter that he can trust and he knows that she never deviates from anything that he has to say.  I've seen Clark complain more than once about times when he's been asked to interview the Man of Steel and that unsurprisingly puts him in a strange position.  How does Clark Kent interview himself while remaining impartial?  He can't ask someone else to do the interview, like Mom, Aunt Lois, or one of his colleagues at the Daily Planet because everyone has their own way of writing.  Clark can write a great article when he wants to, has even won himself a Pulitzer (actually it's a Pulitzer he shares with Mom when they were working on a story together) but put enough articles together, someone can tell whose articles are whose.  

Now that I think of it, Mom and Clark have been growing closer.  I don't know if an increase in awkward encounters count (Clark has walked in on Mom wearing only her bathrobe a few times) but it's still weird.  Besides that, Clark, not wanting to waste the tickets to the Sydney Opera House that he got for me, invited her to go to it instead.  He asked my permission, of course, and I told him he could.  Mom could have used the time away from the house anyway.  Maybe someday I'll get over my fear of flight.  

Flying used to be one of my favorite things to do, especially when Clark took me flying, but now, every thought of flying leaves me with images of Dad and I sharing a plane with a nuclear bomb.  Mom even promised me that this year when we go to the Kent Farm for New Year's Eve that we would be taking a road trip.  The scenic route.  I like road trips.  I like alternating between listening to audiobooks and getting into laughable conversations with everybody in the car while also drinking in the land as it passes by my window.  It's nice to live in a massive country where you can live your whole life and still not see everything that's worth seeing.  Not to mention that parts of it that aren't even attached to the mainland.  

Clark has been helping Mom through her tragedy and I am grateful to him for that.  I'm not fully aware of everything that they are doing together, but little by little, I have seen Mom with less unshed tears and the lingering feeling of the missing piece from our family picture.  If she's anything like me, she probably feels like there's a missing hand from her shoulder.  The gentle squeeze from Dad's calloused hand just to let us know he's there.  And the times that we do feel it, or we think we feel it, reality crashes down on us like a building when we reach up with our own hand and see that nobody was touching our shoulder at all.  I've seen Mom start to respond to the touch of Clark's hand more than usual.  

When Dad would put his hand on her shoulder, or offer to hold her hand, or hug her, there was this unsubtle jubilant look that would bright up her features like a thousand-watt lightbulb.  She would say his name and, if Dad didn't tease her and make me uncomfortable by grabbing her ass just to make her squeal, she would place her free hand over his.  If the mood was gloomier, she would just lean into his touch or cry into his chest.  

When Clark offers the same gesture--without the ass-grabbing--there is something a whole lot more.  Sometimes, she wouldn't make a response.  Not that she would be pointedly ignoring the gesture, but she would just stand there and let him touch her.  A silent gesture letting her know that he was there and if she needed him, she could turn around and he would be there for her.  Maybe it's because he's her best friend or there's a level of attraction that they've both buried so deep that neither of them know how to unearth, but it seems to be a much deeper gesture than the way Dad touched her.  Clark is somebody who can touch Mom like that in any situation.  Even when I can tell that Mom would much rather not be touched.  He's somebody that, now that I look back, can gently make Mom accept that simple act of friendship, kindness, love, or whatever it is even when she tries to convince herself that she doesn't want it.  

Maybe I am grasping at straws, assembling clues in the wrong fashion, but I think they might actually have feelings for each other.  Rereading a few entries from some of my past journals, I have made similar assumptions, but now I think that maybe there is a spark between them.  I really don't know how I feel about it.  I had my time to be hurt and angry when I walked in on them having sex in my bed several months back, even if they were under the influence of a love potion.  Also, Dad's dead now.  Even if he wasn't, during the brief time that he was reunited with us, I only ever saw them kiss one time.  They didn't seem to be as in love as they used to be and, if the documents I found a few days ago are no indicator, their marriage was over before Dad even died.

I wasn't snooping, but a few days ago, while looking for some files that Mom needed, I found divorce papers.  Given the date on them, they were issued before Dad even disappeared.  I hid the documents and later that evening I sat in bed just staring at them.  I feel like I was mentally trying to make them disappear, as if just closing my eyes for a few seconds, I would open them again to see that they weren't divorce papers at all.  My breath was shallow, but I didn't feel the sting of any tears.  How could there be tears?  It happened a long time ago now and the fact that Mom's signature wasn't on it means that they didn't go through with it. 

Cynically, I wondered if it was because of Thea.  Perhaps my little sister was an unplanned pregnancy after all, or maybe Mom had no idea she could still get pregnant considering she's nearing the age where women tend to reach menopause.  I wouldn't be surprised if she couldn't reach menopause.  She looks like she's twenty-five, so that should mean that the rest of her body is suspended at its prime.  I remember how surprised Dad was when I excitedly revealed that I knew Mom was pregnant and maybe, just maybe he wasn't aware.  Perhaps they saw the pregnancy as a chance to start anew.  A chance to get back to where they once were.  If the way they interacted during Dad's brief return was no indicator, it hadn't worked.  They shared the joy of having another child, yes, but the fire between them had dimmed to the embers of two friends trying to figure out what the next step would be.

Maybe they worried how I would take it if they went through with the divorce.  Both my parents are--were in Dad's case--very good to me, so I could never hate them.  I would have hated the fact that they weren't married.  I would have hated coming home from school every week knowing that my parents weren't living under the same roof.  I'm not sure who would have gotten the house, but I am sure that joint custody would have been negotiated.  The courts wouldn't have had any reason--at least none that I could think of--for banning Mom or Dad from seeing me or Thea.  Not to mention how I would have had a hard time recovering from it, not just for me but for my little sister as well.  Both my parents would have deserved to see Thea grow.

Now that Dad is dead, maybe Mom has been mentally trying to convince herself that she was still in love with Dad when he died.  Maybe she feels guilty and is beating herself up for not loving him as much as she should have and now she wishes she could tell him "I love you," one more time.  If she does move on, and it ends up being with Clark, I'll support her.  

I just want her to be happy again.  Maybe, it would help if I start letting myself feel again.  Maybe I should let myself smile and let her feel my emotions the way I always used to.  It means that I'll have to come to terms with my own grief, but maybe I do need to free a few tears that I've been holding back for so long.  And who knows, maybe I'll even repair my relationships with my friends.

But for now, I still wanted justice for Dad's death.

Given the holiday month, the last mission that Checkmate sent me on was a strange one.  In the second week of the month, there was a toy drive for children.  Specifically, these were children of some very bad people.  Some crime lords from the city and abroad who were discussing peace while partnering up in a toy drive for sickly children.  Criminals aside, it was a noble endeavor.  Checkmate didn't really care.  My orders were to kill the crime lords and the worst part was I had to go in dressed up as Santa Claus.  I was going to scar these children for life by making at least some of them watch Santa Clause deal with the people "on his naughty list".  I think it would have been more appropriate if I was asked to dress up as Krampus.  

I had a hard time finding my way around this one.  So far, I have managed to get away with not killing any of my targets and I have been subtly receiving "thank you" gifts from all of them, but this one?  How do pretend to kill a bunch of adults in front of a bunch of children who are fighting pestilence?  Children who are thankful for the generous donations offered so that maybe, just maybe they can be healthy again.  It was time to betray Checkmate.  

Over the last few weeks, I have been surreptitiously gathering files about every member of Checkmate, including members in government, the missions they have carried out, the people they have murdered in the name of this country, and virtually every crime they have ever committed.  At the same time, I have also gathered information about the crimes committed by Luthor Industries.  Specifically crimes approved and even orchestrated by Lex Luthor himself.  I would hate to see more people become unemployed than necessary.  Luthor Industries doesn't need to be destroyed, just pruned in all the right places until all that's left are its legitimate endeavors, which there are quite a few.  

A few days before the event, I secretly met with one of my connections in the Bratva and they passed the word along to one of the crime lords who was going to be at the charity event.  I was able to meet with the woman and, it took a considerable amount of convincing, but I managed to win her over.  I didn't use the phrase, but it did have a bit of "the enemy of my enemy is my friend" vibe.  She asked me to explain how I was planning on blackmailing Checkmate and Lex Luthor.  This woman, I asked for specifically because she was a social media tycoon when she wasn't a drug queen underground.  I showed her a flash drive containing everything and she was skeptical.  She wondered if there was a catch, or if I was expecting some kind of payment.  She watched some of the footage on the flash drive and I told her that the reason why I was able to grab all of this is because Checkmate still thought they could trust me.  

Given my blatant betrayal, the woman asked how could she know that I would not betray her.  I am a victim of Checkmate as much as she was (though not quite for the same reasons) and more than anything I wanted everyone to see that they were not good servants of this nation.  She insisted that if what I was offering delivered, that she was willing to give me two million dollars.  Crazy, but okay.  If not, though, she would not stop until me and everyone I loved was dead.  Fair enough.

So at the charity drive, I came as expected.  Dressed as Santa Claus.  The woman spotted me and I handed her the flash drive hidden in a Green Arrow action figure.  Less pitiful than hiding something in a teddy bear.  She went into a separate room and started uploading it onto her computer.  Before long, everyone in the room who had a cellphone, or tablet, or whatever started getting feeds exposing the crimes of Checkmate and Lex Luthor.

It was Jonathan Sullivan-Queen signing off.

Now I am waiting for the newsreels to show members of Checkmate, including Cynthia Waller, undergoing investigation.  Lex Luthor himself should be arrested soon.  I'm not sure if even the best lawyers in this country can really help him.  One of the files showed that he was in fact responsible for the hunt for meteor freaks while he was in office.  

Mom, Clark and Aunt Lois ought to be very impressed with whatever happens.  Yet, they will have no idea who was the architect of it all.

Well, almost everyone.  Tess was the only person I confided in about it as Tess Mercer 1.0 was a member of Checkmate.  The Tess Mercer I know as one of my closest friends never was, but she did have those memories.  She was worried because I might have just painted a target on my family's backs, but she was impressed nonetheless.  She also promised to keep a closer eye on my family in case somebody from Checkmate sought retribution.  I argued that I made sure that the broadcast couldn't be traced back to me, but I let her remind me to be careful at the same time.  

I guess I should be watching my back in case something happens.

Hopefully, I'll be prepared for the consequences.

 


	32. Chapter Thirty-Two

January 2031

 

Dear Diary, 

 

Turns out my betraying Checkmate did come with some consequences.  The same day that the downfall of Checkmate and Lex Luthor were all over the news, a few thugs stormed my house and kidnapped Mom.  We were having breakfast and Mom made me escape with Thea using a hot frying pan as a weapon.  I've seen what certain things can do to people, but seeing what hitting someone with a hot frying pan did to them...it was sickening to say the least and I am sure that guy was bound to have a huge burn on his face.  

Figuring it was best to try and get out of the house, I grabbed the keys to the SUV and hastily strapped Thea into her car seat just as a few thugs were behind me.  I called Felicity.  Thankfully, she answered and while I would have loved to just have a nice chitchat with her, I needed to disappear.  She quickly got busy and helped weave me through traffic as I tried to lose the thugs behind me.  I didn't even have a gun to help.  Plus, it's a bit difficult to drive and use a gun at the same time.  Especially when the person you are trying to shoot is behind you.  Eventually, I lost them in a intersection.  I thanked Felicity for the help and despite the reason for it, she thanked me for calling her.  

I promised to catch up with her and I always keep my promises.  I drove to an old warehouse and I called Clark.  He arrived not a few seconds later and he asked me what was going on.  After having him fly Thea to Metropolis so that she'd be out of harm's way, I explained everything.  I told him what I had been up to for the last few months.  I told him about my involvement with Checkmate and how they offered to help me bring down Lex Luthor in exchange for my services.  I explained how I was angry and distraught and I should have just gone to him or Mom for help and I was sorry for letting myself get involved with such bad people.  I explained how over time I managed to gather enough information that I could expose both Checkmate and Lex Luthor that they could be put behind bars.  

Clark pulled me into a hug and helped me calm down.  He assured me that I was a victim and that he was impressed that I managed to get myself out from under Checkmate's thumb.  I think he also seemed pleased that I was letting all the emotion that I had bottled up for so long pour out in front of him.  I never looked at Clark Kent like a father figure, but I really do enjoy his hugs.  Being in his embrace, I actually feel loved and cared about.  Not that I never felt that way when Dad embraced me, or when Mom, Aimee, and even Tess embrace me, but with Clark I can never decide to call it brotherly, or fatherly, or just a gesture from someone who genuinely cares about me.  

Eventually, he pulled away from me and asked if I had any idea where Mom might have been taken.  Given the number of Checkmate installations that have been compromised and closed down, thanks to me, I had a pretty good idea.  I needed my gear and, before I had time to comprehend, Clark blurred away and reappeared with my Purple Arrow gear.  

As I hastily put it on and while Clark helped me with the lace, I asked him a very important question.  

"Clark, do you have feelings for my mother?"

Clark finished lacing up my tunic and he came around front to face me.  He looked me in the eye as he told me that he didn't just have feelings for my mother.  He was _in love_ with her.  He spent years trying to suppress it, but as the years went by, they only intensified to the point where it became agony.  He told me that it was the reason why he and Aunt Lois broke up.  Actually, to put it accurately, he didn't realize or didn't accept that he was in love with my mother at the time and it was more because of the Pulitzer that he and Mom won and Aunt Lois came to realize that they were always a better team than he was with her.  

I asked him that since my dad died did he suddenly feel free to expose his feelings?  He ignored my snark, but he did go on to say that he actually held back for fear of hurting me.  I wasn't expecting that, but I appreciated it all the same.  Furthermore, he promised that if I'd rather, he would never pursue a relationship with my mother.  I rolled my eyes and told him that if it was any consolation, my parents were planning on getting divorced.  He gaped at that revelation, but as it turns out, it wasn't because he didn't know, but rather because he was surprised _I_ knew.  I had my time to vent about it and I am just tired of being angry.  It's not like he's a bad guy and on top of that, he is somebody that I care about.  I also want my mother to be happy and, based on how he and my mother have interacted all my life, I believed--still believe that he could be the man for her.  If he wanted to pursue a relationship with my mother, he had my blessing.  

First we had to save her.  Even if I hadn't already had an idea of where Mom might have been, her necklace that I gave her a long time ago that she always wears has an undetectable tracer in it.  I managed to find it using my phone momentarily and she was still in the city in one of the underground compounds.  I warned Clark that the compound would have quite a bit of kryptonite, but he wouldn't listen, instead changing into his red and blue tights.  

I contacted Felicity again and, though she seemed reluctantly to help me after all this time, she didn't want to see anything bad happen to my mother.  Clark grabbed me and supersped me to a location near the entrance to the compound.  I didn't need to remind him to be subtle.  Mostly to appease Clark, I stuck to using my nonlethal arrows as Felicity guided us through the compound.  A few times I had Clark go in front of me and quietly remove people in our path.  I don't where he put them, but nor did I really care either.  I was focused on one thing and one thing only:  finding my mother and getting out of there.  We must have been getting close because, according to Clark, upon using his x-ray vision he found Mom tied up in a room not far ahead.  At least this particular compound wasn't built like a maze as some of the compounds I've seen were.  

Before I could stop Clark, he burst through the doors and was immediately incapacitated by kryptonite emitters.  From within, I heard laughter.  I knew that voice.  Pale, brunette, typical hourglass body that I felt could look good in one of the fashion catalogs I am subscribed to if she so chose, and particularly annoying, it was a colleague of mine named Sarah.  She mocked Clark for being as overly powerful as he is to be incapacitated by a bunch of green meteor rocks.  She told my mother that she had poor taste in men.  Maybe so, but she is still my mother and I love her.

I burst into the room and Sarah saw me.  While lamenting what a waste I was, she grabbed a sword and lunged for me.  There's another thing.  Sarah was probably the only person I knew who matched me in the art of swordplay.  I pulled out my katana just as she reached me and we began to spar.  Looking back now, it makes sense that they would have chosen her to, from what it sounded like, give my mother a full disclosure of what I've done over the last few months.  That notion alone made me want to hide my face and never look my mother in the eye again.  How could she love me after finding out everything I've done?  How could she even stand to look at me knowing that, while under Checkmate's control, I have sexually assaulted women all in an effort to obtain information?  Either way, I still wanted to save her.  

Somewhere during my sparring with Sarah, Mom screamed, "JONATHAN SULLIVAN-QUEEN!  Quit reenacting  _The Princess Bride_ and get Superman and I out of here  _now_!"   _The Princess Bride_?  I love that movie!  She also could have compared it to _Pirates of the Caribbean,_ but it wasn't one of those franchises that stayed good with each installment.  A money pit, yes, but steadily grew worse and worse.  Momentarily, I had the desire to ask if I was Wesley or Indigo Montoya, but I didn't want to make her lose her patience anymore than she already had, so I answered,

"As you wish,  _Buttercup_."  I redoubled my blows and soon I gained the upper hand.  I also incorporated some of my meteor power.  Sometimes I wonder why I didn't inherit my mother's meteor power.  I've never gotten sick a day in my life and I tend heal at an accelerated rate, but I can't heal others the way she can.  Still, I focused my fear and I let it spread to Sarah.  I then watched between blows as it slowly became more and more obvious that she was in a state of distress.  She began to whimper and her blows lost there momentum to the point that I was able to knock the sword out of her hand.  I held the katana to her throat.  All I had to do was apply a little pressure.  Sarah knew that too.  

"Go ahead, Purple," she sneered.  "Kill me."  Oh, really wanted to.  

However, I looked at Mom and saw her eyes.  Slightly, ever-so-slightly, she shook her head.  She reminded me that I am  _not_ a killer.  I leaned forward a little and told my former colleague to get out and to make sure that I never saw her again.  With a scoff, she listened.  

Now I was able to disable the kryptonite emitters.  I then rushed over to my mother.  She asked about Thea and I told her that Clark took her to Metropolis and that Tess was looking out for her.  I then frantically tried to explain myself to her about Checkmate and everything the same way I did with Clark, but she pressed a delicate finger to my lips and asked if it was me who exposed them and Lex Luthor.

Somebody had to and I had everything I needed in order to do so.

Mom pulled me into a hug and shushed me as I sobbed.  Then she noticed Clark and I broke away from her to help steady him as he rose to his feet.  Mom rushed over with the words "Oh, for God's sake!" and she pulled him down to her as she firmly planted her lips upon his.  So Mom was willing to act upon her feelings as well.  I could live with that.  I'm still in a mourning period over the loss of my dad, but even if Mom is helping me work through my grief, I can't blame her for coming out of her mourning period quicker than me.  She and Dad simply didn't love each other anymore.  

That kiss though, didn't really solidify my mother's newfound relationship with Clark, so when Clark took the two of us home--or three as he brought Thea back--I had to convince her to act upon her feelings.  I got her to confess her feelings and I found out that she had been in love with Clark Kent since the day she met him in the eighth grade.  I asked her why she didn't act upon them before and I also found out that she wasn't as aggressive as she could have been.  She was shocked to find out that I had discovered the divorce papers and I also found out the weirdest thing.

My parents got married during a drunken encounter following Clark and Lois's first bachelor/bachelorette party.  How pathetic and stupid is that?  And to make things even worse, I found out that she had spent half of that day thinking that she had in fact married  _Clark_ and not my dad.  She freaked out at the idea of being married to her best friend, a man she had poorly suppressed feelings for since the eighth grade, but she was okay with the idea of marrying a man she only officially started calling her boyfriend for a week?  A man she had spent almost a year before just sleeping around with on the side to escape the loneliness of the world?  Maybe Mom expected me to call her a slut or something, and maybe it would be a fitting description, but the word I used was "coward".  

Clark was offering his heart to her on a silver platter and she was just backing away over things that happened almost twenty years ago.  I had to convince her to stop being a coward and, I guess it worked out.  

Come Christmas morning, when Tess, who was staying with me overnight at the loft above the Queen clock tower in Metropolis, and I got to the Watchtower loft, Clark called my mother his girlfriend.  Mom looked giddy as a teenage girl at the revelation and upon sharing a look with Tess, all she and I could say was that it was about time.  There was laughter, smiles, joy, and presents, and it turned into the best Christmas I had had in the last few years, even if Dad was dead. 

Here in the middle of the month of this new year, Mom and Clark have been spending quite a bit of time together.  Maybe it's because she is officially in a relationship now, but I haven't accidentally walked in on the two of them...fooling around.  I wish that that could have been extended to  _before_ they were a couple.  If not last Valentine's Day when I found them having sex in my bed, at least the one or two times I brought Mom breakfast only to find that she had her hands where they shouldn't have been.  

Speaking of couples, Christmas Eve, Tess, to my surprise, confessed that she had feelings for me.  Well, I am old enough now that she can legally be in a relationship with me, but I am conflicted.  This version of Tess has no memory of ever being with my dad--or any memory really, beyond her intellect, childhood, and aquaitances with Lex, Clark, and my mother--but at the same time it seems natural that she would be attracted me, a Queen.  Now that Dad is dead, combined with the fact that she has no memory of Tess 1.0's relationship with him, it doesn't seem as weird as it could be.  She's my best friend.  I told her that I needed some time to think about it.  I talked it over with Mom.  

She asked if I had feelings for Tess.  Turns out I do, but what about Aimee?  She is a very close friend of mine too with whom, my relationship blossomed into romance.  I broke up with her because I was stupid and instead of letting people in to help me through the grief of losing Dad, I pushed everyone away.  I tried so hard not to get myself caught up in a love triangle, but here am now.  Thinking about the pros and cons of being with Tess and with Aimee. 

Aimee is a girl who I befriended at a time when I worried that I wasn't going to have any friends.  We befriended each other as I was an outcast rich boy and she was the new girl in town from Smallville.  Her spunky, cynical nature always put a smile on my face and at the end of the day, we could always turn to each other for comfort and laughter.  I'm the guy that made her feel beautiful when she couldn't see it.  I helped her when she was at her most vulnerable.   

Tess, even before she was given a real body, she was the one person who made me feel less like an outsider when I was forced to come along with Mom and Dad on hero business.  She could get me laughing and was usually the first person to come to me when I felt left out.  When she was given a real body, I was the first person to help her reintegrate into life as an actual human being.  Now that I think of it, while Clark has been living with her and they are like brother and sister, I was the one who really helped her when she needed someone to talk to, to join her when she wanted to go for ice cream, when she just wanted to do stuff that younger people did.  She is even somebody that I can scheme with.  She is a calculating woman who I can easily engage with in clever mind games and I can play chess with her.  She's a fine balance between being someone who I can call a friend and the person who makes me feel at home--makes me feel safe--in the hero world.   

Best part about both of them, is that they are not in any way whiny girls.  Maybe Aimee is more friendship material.  Maybe I could pursue a relationship with Tess.  Maybe I'll ask her if she'd like to go on a date and see where we end up.  

Either way, I really want to repair my relationship with Aimee, with Felicity, and with Dig.  I already managed to do some of that with Felicity, and I even joined her for a movie last weekend, but I still have a ways to go, repairing the damage I've done.

I've got a lot of work to do.

 


	33. Chapter Thirty-Three

March 2031

 

Dear Diary,

 

I went on a date with Tess a couple of weeks after the winter holidays.  I have to say she looked quite beautiful.  She wore a wide-strapped purple dress with a skirt that hung loosely around her legs and a dipping neckline, offering a clear display of her cleavage, but high enough that the more hormonally-active guys might wish it was lower.  It was a small taste of what lied underneath, but it was subtle.  Tess knows very well that I am all for subtlety and she went for a subtle dress.  We met at one of my favorite Indian restaurants in Star City.  Quite cheap by my standards, but arguably with the best service.  I've also been there enough times, that I have picked up on some Hindi and I am on a first name basis with many of the staff.  If the food is great and the service is more than up to par, the money spent ought to be the last thing that matters.  Not to say that the more white collar restaurants I have been to don't have great service, I just feel that the Indian restaurant I normally go to in one of the more middle class neighborhoods is my favorite in both food and service.  

Throughout my date with Tess, we talked and laughed and exchanged stories about the past week.  Poor Clark had to do deal with a network of thugs who were robbing shopping hot spots after Christmas.  Not just toy stores, but also jewelry stores and department stores.  Christmastime is a money pit and it sadly encourages some people to obtain money they haven't earned.  Clark quickly thwarted them, but it did take some help from Watchtower to make sure that he got to each group of thugs.  Tess was on the same page as me when I shared that I always say a silent prayer of thanks whenever Clark doesn't have to deal with people who have obtained kryptonite.  People can spend as much on kryptonite items as they can on drugs.  Actually, sometimes they can spend _more_ on it than on drugs as kryptonite is not exactly an abundant material.

I share with Tess some things about how I've been doing.  I am happy to see my mother being in a happy place.  I've tried to think of it as hurtful that it would take less time for her to move on from Dad's death than me, but I failed miserably.  I can't resent my mother for long periods of time.  Then again, I have never been one for grudges.  It's also considerably helpful that, even if she is happy especially due to her newfound relationship with Clark, she is still very sensitive to my feelings and is willing to console me when I need her the most.  Clark himself is very kind to me.  A lot of the times, he tries to get me to join him for fun stuff that he is sure will put a smile on my face.  It usually works, but it can be difficult if it involves nostalgia where my dad is concerned.  

I told Tess that I wish I could figure out how to move on with my life.  I can barely put on my Purple Arrow gear without any nostalgia flaring up.  Dad was an archer.  The more I think of it, the more I feel that archery is something that was planned out for me like a recipe for a perfect son.  After all, a baby-sized bow was the first thing that Dad ever gave me along with my first pacifier.  I became an archer by design it seems and I picked up on hacking skills from my mother, not because she talked me into it, but because it was something that I was interested in.

I am business-smart and I have dabbled with journalism, but what I really did on my own was develop an eye for fashion.  I can sew, thanks to lessons from Clark and Martha Kent, but I don't really design clothes.  Rather, I find that I can judge fashion very well and I feel I can decide what clothes work best with whoever is wearing them.

Tess told me that nothing said I had to be an archer in my life.  Nothing said that I had to be a journalist.  I don't have to be a carbon-copy of who my parents are--or were in Dad's case.

It was a lovely evening, but it was about a half hour before the both of us realized that there was no romantic future between us.  Tess was clearly distraught, but I grasped her hands in mine and I assured her that there is a man out there for her.  Maybe she was desperate for companionship and I was the one that she felt connected to the most (maybe it's because, though she doesn't remember it, she had some romantic--albeit disastrous--history with my dad).  

She smiled at me tearfully and she told me, "You're gonna make a woman very happy one day."  Maybe Dad could have been the same way if he was nurtured more.  When the parents go, so does the much-need nurturing that can potentially turn someone into a good person.  Lex Luthor had a terrible father and as a result, he became someone with an innate desire to prove himself and sadly that didn't blow over in the best possible way.  

I may not be the one for Tess, but she asked--jokingly--if I could still be her friend.  Was she kidding me?  Tess Mercer is one of my best friends and whether she likes it or not, she's going to have to deal with that.  Using those words thankfully turned some of her tears into laughter.  

When I told Mom about how our date went, she seemed almost relieved that we didn't establish ourselves as being romantically involved.

 

These past couple of months, Mom and Clark have gone on at least one date each week.  More disturbingly, Mom has been more or less ridden with hickeys, but her healing powers make them disappear quite quickly.  I don't know if that bothers her or not, but for me it makes them less distracting.  Otherwise, I might have trouble taking my own mother seriously.  How can I take my mother seriously when she riddled with love bites?  From a guy whose extracurricular activities has him wearing blue tights and a red cape?

Aside from my mother and her romantic life, I feel like I have been making some progress rebuilding my relationship with my friends.  Felicity has welcomed me back into her life and it seems that I have given her somebody to talk computers with again.  I also feel like I have given her somebody beyond her boyfriend, Stephen to really compliment her appearance.  Given how she curtly she refused to talk about it, I'd say she has had a number of wardrobe malfunctions, figuring out what to wear and later feeling like she had picked the wrong outfit.  I'm glad that I can offer her a man's touch that is not her boyfriend's.  Besides, how can I ever grow tired Felicity Smoak's quirkiness?  It's adorable!

Dig, I think he was the most understanding.  He knows what it is like to lose a family member and cut himself off from everyone who cares about him.  He assured me that he wasn't over his brother's death, anymore than I am over my dad's, or anymore than Clark is over losing both his mother  _and_ father.  All we can do is find a way to wake up every day and put one foot in front of the other.  It sure as hell doesn't make losing someone any easier.  It doesn't fully quell the feeling that there is a missing spot in the family picture, at the dinner table, or at the family gatherings.  All we can do is figure out a way to cope with the missing pieces in our lives and maybe even try to overshadow those missing pieces with new, bigger and maybe even brighter pieces.  

Dig and I reestablished our friendship and now I have a guy my age in my life again.  

Aimee is a whole different story.  She told me when we broke up that when I wanted to open up that she would be there, but as it turns out, she has not kept that promise.  I might as well have scourged her.  Ripped her heart out, stomped on it, urinated on it, and then put it into the paper shredder.  I've interacted with her.  I've been offering her friendly words.  I tried focusing my meteor power on her, showing my intentions of reestablishing our friendship and she lashed out.  She pounced on me, straddled me in the middle of a hallway and punched me over and over again.  The straddling part felt  _really_ good, but fists--directed at me--are not my idea of an arousing encounter.  

It took two teachers to pry her off of me and she was suspended.  Mom didn't have to ask to know how my efforts that day went.  She healed me, but left enough bruising so as to not arose suspicion.  Mom has been very good about keeping her meteor power hidden from the general public and I applaud her for that.

A few more failed attempts to reconnect followed (none of which were quite as dramatic thankfully) but what I think really reestablished our connection happened a couple of days ago.

It was a weekend day and there were only a few people at school.  Some doing detention, some, such as myself, were tutoring others and that required a bit of time _in_ school.  It was a normal, boring day for the most part.  Felicity and I spent half the time joking as we did working with our classmates, but then the fire alarm sounded.  It didn't take long to figure out it wasn't a hoax.  There  _was_ a fire and, as per protocol, everyone was filed out of the building as the firetrucks arrived on scene.  I looked through all the people and I didn't see Aimee.  Where was she?  She was working on a paper and I knew that she should have been there.  

I assumed the worst and I glanced back at the school.  A section of it on the north side was ablaze.  The same side where the school's Star City High Times office was.  And Aimee is a pyrophobic!  She can sit by a campfire and roast marshmallows and laugh and spend time, but beyond that, she is terrified of fire.  One time I took her to a rock concert and when the pyrotechnics came, even though we weren't that close to the stage, she just went nuts and nearly wet herself.  

I had to get her out of there.  I asked Felicity to distract the firefighters while I went into the building.  Her use of fainting surprisingly worked, but just as I was running into the building, I heard my mother call after me.  I turned back towards her voice.  She ordered me not to go into the building.  I offered up my hands apologetically and I went into the building, ignoring her screams for me to stop.  There was smoke and all I had was a large hankie to shield myself from some of it.  It wasn't long before I found the flames.  

I have to say, I worry that I am developing pyrophobia.  I still have nightmares about this.  

I carefully navigated my way through the awful heat and the unforgiving flames.  My clothes got singed a few times.  I found Aimee right where I thought she'd be.  She was huddled in a corner of the office, coughing.  I rush over to her and tried with little success to get her to move.  She wouldn't budge.  

I forced her to look at me.  "Aimee, I know you're scared out of your wits right now, but _we need to leave now_ ," I told her.  Still, she wouldn't budge.  For God's sake, "Aimee, you plaid-loving farm girl, I love you and I'm not just going to sit here let you get incinerated!"  At that, she looked up at me between her coughs and I showed her just how much she meant to me.  "Please," I told her more softly.  "I need you to move.  I can't get you out of here on my own."

She nodded and I helped her stand up.  Guiding her as she struggled between her coughs, we left the _Times_ office as it burst into flames.  What I found blocking my path however still haunts me.  

It was Dad.  No, it shouldn't have been Dad.  Dad was dead!  I watched him die!  Or rather, I watched the plane he was in explode.  There was no way that he could have survived.  Yet there was this..version of Dad standing before me wearing green leather and a breathing mask to shield him from the smoke.  And pointing an arrow at my head.  

Aimee was beginning to faint.  No, I needed her to stay awake.  However, no sooner that I was cradling her, did I hear the whistling of an arrow.  I spun around just in time to catch it in my hand.  And I mean _in_ my hand.  I bit back the pain as best I could, but I barely had time to react as this Green Arrow came down on me.  He ripped the arrow out of my hand.  That hand was mostly useless for the time being.  I avoided his blows enough that I was able to grab an ax from the emergency cabinet.  Not the sharpest axes in the world, but it was enough to fight this man with.  

It was unreal.  I was fighting a man who looked like my dad, fought like my dad, and sounded like my dad.  As we fought, he taunted me.  It was made clear to me that he was in fact a _clone_ of my dad and my dad was a weakling.  Being captured and turned into a lab rat.  Into a weapon.  And it was almost child's play planting the nuke on the plane.  And I wasn't any better.  I was just a stupid child with delusions of ever being like my dad.  

However, through all the taunts and the resulting tears, I fought and I eventually made the clone lose his balance and fall into the flames.  The screams were awful.  It wasn't my dad, but still it felt like I was watching the man who raised me being burned alive.  I had no time to stand and stare.  I scooped up the unconscious Aimee in my arms and ran from the building as the flames threatened to look at my back.  Maybe it's not such a fantasy in the movies when you see someone run from a burning building as it collapses behind them.  The school didn't collapse, but there were a few explosions and the windows blew out just before I stepped out of the building, coughing and covered in singed clothing, my ruined hand, and some smoke.  

Some paramedics took Aimee from me and, thankfully, she was going to be okay.  Mom rushed over to me and smothered me in hugs and frantic "I thought I'd lost you's" as the paramedics led me over to breathe into a mask.  I don't think I ever coughed so much in my life.  They also stitched up my hand and bandaged it.  Thankfully, they didn't ask how that had happened.  

All I could tell Mom was that, I couldn't just leave Aimee in there.  She was too frantic, too angry to listen.  She admonished me for going in there and it really didn't help the shock I already felt.  I saw a man who looked like my dad.  I fought a man who looked like him.  I watched a man who looked like my dad burn to death.  I can still smell the burning leather and flesh.

Apparently there was some argument between Mom and Clark about the whole ordeal.  She called him and he arrived--as Clark Kent--and he didn't listen to her when she told him to go in and get me out of the building.  And that made her very upset with him.  

In the last couple of days, I haven't seen Aimee, but Mom told me that he came for a visit.  She told me that he thanked me in earnest for saving his daughter's life.  He went on to say that even though we have been through a rough patch, Aimee was lucky to have me in her life.  He told Mom that she should be extremely proud of me.

He called me a hero.  That word made Mom and I gape.  Roy Marek said I had his blessing should Aimee and I become friends--or even more than friends--again.  

The whole exchange seemed to melt Mom a little and she echoed Mr. Marek's words.  She was proud of me and she healed my hand.  Also, she overheard me talking with Clark about what happened while I was in the building.  When I was finished, and the tears began to fall from my eyes, all she could do was hold me to her.  I miss my dad so much and I had to watch him--or at least something that looked like him--die all over again.  

I can't do this anymore.  I can't be a hero anymore.  I can't be the Purple Arrow anymore.  

I'm done.  

But at least, for the first time in my life, I truly feel like a hero.  

And I was wearing no mask.  Carrying no bow.  

I simply want to be Jonathan Sullivan-Queen. 


	34. Chapter Thirty-Four

April 2031

 

 ~~Dear Diary~~ , actually, this feels more like a letter to Dad, so I'll go with Dear Dad,

 

Mom's a mess.  That day that I pulled Aimee from the fire, I was not the only person to suffer the brunt of her meltdown.  Clark, the guy that she had been routinely having dinner with and sleeping with on the side, suffered as well.  I've been talking with him a lot lately and all we can determine is that Mom has had some deeply rooted anger issues and me rushing into a burning building, scaring the crap out of her, was all the trigger she needed for all that anger to come pouring out so fast that, before she could regain control of herself, she slapped me so hard that she knocked me to the ground.  Well, I was already in shock from seeing some sort of version of you in that school, so that helped.  Clark wouldn't tell me the things that Mom said to him, but she really hurt him.  A few times over the last few weeks, little to Mom's knowledge, I've had coffee with him and all those times, he seemed really torn up about what went down between him and my mother.  

He's worried about her.  I don't know if he's worried that they will never make up, but he's definitely worried about the status of his relationship with Mom.  At first, I think I might have been a bit apprehensive of Mom and Clark being in a relationship, but now I think that they are really good together.  I think that they have moved a bit too quickly for them both to handle.  I'm not even sure if they ever went on a proper date.  Almost seems like how your relationship with Mom started out, doesn't it? 

I wonder if some of those deeply rooted anger issues stem from you and Mom not having much of a real relationship before you two got married during that wild night of mayhem.  Sometimes, I wonder if, assuming you two actually dated for awhile--maybe six months or a couple of years--if you two would have decided that your relationship would never have worked out and I would never have existed.  Clark is the one who has been reminding me to not wish that I never existed.  He should know.  He told me he once did the exact same thing, only he ended up in an alternate reality where he truly never existed.  There was another boy--a varsity jacket-clad boy--named Clark Kent.  Mom was engaged to some cop.  And Lex Luthor had nuked the world.  

What sort of negative effects would have come about if  _I_ never existed?  Where would my friends be in life?  Would you still be alive?  Would you be in and out of rehab so many times, or even be dead from liquor abuse?  Would Aunt Lois have a few of your bastards?  Where would Mom and Clark be?  Married?  Would they have been in such a bad place that they couldn't even stand to be in the same room with each other?  Would Clark and Lois still be together, maybe married?  Would Aimee have died in that fire?  

I don't like to think about it too much.  Plus, Clark keeps reminding me how happy he is to have me in his life.  I look back now, and as I reevaluate how you were as a father and how Clark is as a godfather, Clark was--is--a lot better than you were.  You gave me awesome gifts, taught me to be a warrior, took me to lavish places in the world, but in all those times, when it came to heart-to-hearts, teaching me to be a better person, being there when I needed a shoulder to cry on, being a friend when I was at my loneliest, even being there for Mom when  _she_ was at  _her_ loneliest, you fell a bit short.  Clark did all those things for me.  He didn't spoil me with crazy gifts (although, Artemis is still one of my favorite gifts) but he was always the one who was there for me on an emotional level.  You were great to me earlier in my life, but as I grew older, you just drifted further and further away from me until I couldn't find you anymore.  Hell, Clark was the one who gave me the sex talk!  

I don't know which would have been better--hearing the sex talk from an awkward farmboy, or someone like you--a guy who spent more time between a woman's legs--or more than that God forbid--than he did actually taking the time to get to know a woman.  Both are extremes, and while I did hear it from the former, I must say that it looks like Clark has changed for the better over time.  Would you still be a promiscuous, spiky-haired Casanova if you were still alive?  Would you have been unfaithful to Mom if it wasn't for the fact that you had me in your life?  And probably being under threat of castration from Clark Kent's heat vision?  

Maybe, maybe not, but you know what?  You're dead, so I'll never know for sure.  Fuck you, Dad.  Fuck you, for not being there in all the times I needed you.  Fuck you for needing Clark Kent to convince you and Mom to have a real marriage ceremony  _after_ I was born.  Fuck you for not being a better husband to Mom.  Fuck you for not being here so I can scream at you.  Fuck you for not being alive!  FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU  _FUCK YOU_!  

 

On a positive note, Mom seems to be getting better and better.  The past month-and-a-half, she has been going to therapy.  I don't know what she discusses with her shrink, but whatever it is, seems to be seriously helping.  I imagine that she wants to patch things up with Clark, but I do think it's going to be a little while longer before she's ready to speak to him.  I could tell her that Clark is eager to talk to her again, but at the same time, he wants her to make the first move since she was the one who blew up at him.  

Whatever happens, I am sure that the two of them will patch things up.  I hate seeing them in a bad place.  Even before you died, I hated it when they weren't getting along.  It's just gross.  Mom and Clark not getting along is just...it's like Harry Potter and Hermione Granger not getting along.  I never saw you read a Harry Potter book or watch one of the movies, so you wouldn't know that reference.  Shame on you, Dad. 

Mom's relationship with Clark aside, she's been progressively less irritable and we've actually been able to talk to each other like we used to.  Up until recently, I'd forgotten how much I missed just spending time with Mom.  Thea's a bit of a handful, but every so often, Mom and I have been able to just share a coffee together and even have dinner together.  I might be eighteen years old, but I still enjoy spending time with my mother.  It does help that my mother is an unbelievably awesome woman.  She actually listens when I need someone to talk to.  She has given me much needed dating advice growing up and I think that, for the most part, I have taken those lessons very seriously.

Speaking of dating, I've been patching things up with Aimee.  I though that maybe she would pretend like she wasn't grateful that I saved her life, but she didn't.  In fact, she came by the house once while we were stuck with virtual classes until the school was repaired.  I was the one who answered the door, but I had no idea that she was coming by, so things were a bit awkward.  Especially because I was sweaty and filthy from working out and I had no shirt on.  

I invited her to come inside, but I needed a few minutes to take a cold shower and change into some clean clothes.  When I rejoined her, we just talked.  I could tell that she was still a bit shaken up about being in a burning building, but she joked that maybe she ought to keep me around more often.  I joked back that she should learn to not be so much of a damsel in distress.  It earned me a playful punch to the shoulder.  Do you have any idea how wonderful it felt to receive a playful punch from my friend?  I don't know where we are at romantically at the moment, but I'm happy to say that I have my best friend back.  Who knows, maybe we will become romantically involved again.  Tess has definitely promised bad things for Aimee if  _she_ breaks  _my_ heart.  

Sometimes, I think it would be quite amusing to see the two of them get into a fight.  At least until, they started to really hurt each other.  Then, I might have to intervene.  Then again, it's kind of risky.  I'm a guy and it's not always safe for a guy to play peacemaker when a couple of girls get into a fight.  

I don't know if Mom and Clark will get back together.  I don't know if I'll become romantically involved with Aimee again.  But I am more than willing to see what will happen as time goes by.  

I'm probably not going to direct one of my entries towards you again, Dad, but if you were listening, I sure hope wherever you are that you are able to rethink your life.  If there is an afterlife, you sure have plenty of time to think it over.  

Goodbye, Dad.  


	35. Chapter Thirty-Five

May 2031

 

Dear Diary, 

 

Mom and Clark seem to have patched things up.  I surprised Mom by getting her an interview with the Daily Planet.  To some degree, I doubt that Mom would have made the interview on her own if it wasn't for my intervention.  Really she shouldn't have had anything to worry about as she is a three times Pulitzer winner, but I guess her biggest worry was working in the same place as Clark Kent.  Even so, Mom finally asked for Clark's forgiveness for blowing up at him and they even followed up later with a date.  

I quite possibly think that it was their first  _real_ date and Clark took her to his cabin in Appalachia where he had spent his time following Martha Kent's death.  Mom had to have discovered Clark's talent for painting.  I remember thinking how weird it was when I discovered that Clark paints and that he's been doing it for the last ten years.  Mom won't tell me what she thinks of Clark's talent, but when she came home from her date with him the next morning, she was practically glowing.  She greeted me with a kiss and since I had no idea where that mouth of hers might have been, I ended spending a long time in a lukewarm shower.  

All in all, I'm glad that Mom and Clark are back on solid ground.  They seem to have agreed to take things a lot slower and I really appreciate that.  Not just because I'd prefer it, but also because I feel it will also allow them both time to really build a romantic relationship.

Mom found herself a nice apartment in Metropolis with three bedrooms and enough space to accommodate a grand piano for me, but I do wonder how long she actually plans on staying at that apartment.  Last night it sounds like Clark finally revealed to her that I bought back the Kent Farm for him.  I had lots of allowance from Dad saved up and I wanted to do something nice for my godfather.  It definitely took a lot of charm on my part to get the previous owners to give up the house.  It was hard enough to stay civil as in the last couple of years, they let the house catch fire and there was still significant damage that I felt was poorly repaired.  That  _really_ upset me.  I bought back the farmhouse for Clark and, now that I am eighteen and a number of Dad's accounts have been transferred to my name, I promised him that I was willing to cover whatever expenses he needed in terms of repairs and renovations.  At least so long as he promised never to sell it again, which he assured me he didn't plan to.  

He ended up expanding the house, adding a couple of bedrooms as well as a basement and another full bathroom.  He's never explicitly stated it, but I do imagine he'd like to start a family with my mother.  I don't know how I feel about that, but I do know that Clark has been nothing but a great parental figure in my life and I have no doubt that he will be a great father to Thea if he so chose.  I don't even doubt that he will be a great husband to my mother.  

Talking about my mother, I found her reading one of my diaries the other day!  I mean, I remember Dad invading my privacy once or twice when he was snooping around, making sure that I wasn't writing about things regarding superhero business or my extracurricular activities as the Purple Arrow, but I _never_ expected it from Mom.  

To be fair, she wasn't snooping so much as she had just let her curiosity get the better of her, but still it's worse than if she had walked in on me in the shower and shoved aside the curtain.  She found out about some of my venting, such as my one and only entry directed at Dad and she skimmed through enough of my entries to know how I felt about her relationship with Clark.  I think I made her feel a lot more guilty than she already did about how her relationship with Clark was between January and March, but I guess it could be called an upside that she now knew how uncomfortable I was with how her relationship with him at the time was little more than a prolonged tryst.

Turns out that I'm not the only Sullivan to have had a habit of hiding pain.  While I hid my pain regarding Mom's trysts with Clark, not balancing her relationship with him and me enough to the point where I stopped having my mother to go to when I needed somebody to talk to, once upon a time Mom did something similar.  She never found out about this, but a few months back, when I was helping Clark move some of his stuff back to the farm, I found this letter,

_I want to let you in on a secret, Clark. I'm not who you think I am. In fact, my disguise is so thin, I'm surprised you haven't seen right through me. I'm the girl of your dreams masquerading as your best friend. Sometimes I want to rip off this façade like I did at the Spring Formal, but I can't because you'll get scared and you'll run away again. So I decided that it's better to live with the lie than expose my true feelings. My dad told me there are two types of girls: the ones you grow out of, and the ones you grow into. I really hope I'm the latter. I may not be the one you love today, but I'll let you go for now, hoping one day you'll fly back to me. Because I think you're worth the wait._

"Live with the lie than expose my true feelings."  It's a beautiful letter and it's just another one of those things that makes me wonder why in the hell Mom and Clark were never in a relationship.  They certainly never hated each other, that much I know for sure, but why?  I know that for the longest time Clark pined for Lana Lang, his high school crush, but reading this letter over and over again, Mom was a horribly insecure little girl.  She never ripped off her facade because she was too scared to take a chance.  Maybe Clark wouldn't have gotten scared and run away again.  Maybe Clark would have given her the time of her life much earlier on by being her boyfriend, therefore giving her a better high school experience.  

Mom's finally in a relationship with him and I certainly hope that he was worth the wait.  I'm not sure I can stand to see Mom have her heart broken all over again.  Grandpa Gabe does seem to have a interesting viewpoint on women, especially if he was going to narrow them down into two categories.  The ones you grow out and the ones you grow into.  I really hope for both Mom and Clark's sake that Mom really is the latter.  I don't think that even I will be able to help Mom pick up the pieces if they break up and I will definitely have trouble not hating Clark if he breaks my mother's heart.  Even if I have loved him more as an unofficial father rather than an uncle.  

Speaking of Grandpa Gabe's two types of girls, I don't think I really grew out of Aimee.  We broke up because I was in shock after Dad died and I didn't know how to share my grief and I ended up cutting myself off from everyone.  Aimee said to me, "I know you're grieving and I want to help you through it like you did for me when my parents split.  But if not...I'll be here when you do."  Lately that has proven quite true.  She really made me work towards getting back into her good graces, from the friendly conversations, to getting a couple of laughs out of each other, and having frappes together like we used to.  Maybe not in that order, but eventually I found myself crying into her shoulder as I finally let her in.  

As I told her how I angry I was that Dad was dead, how he wouldn't be there when I graduated, how I just wish I could scream at him, Aimee fixed the golden depths of her hazel-brown eyes on me and just stared.  It was like she was seeing me for the first time in months.  Or at least the version of me that she knew and loved.  Even though I drove myself to tears, she surprised me with this one request.

"Scream," she said simply.

I laughed at her nervously.  We were on the bleachers outside and there were a good number of people around us.  Still, she knew how much I just wanted to scream, making my life sound like a Simple Plan song and she leaned and whispered silkily,

"I'll scream with you, if you'd like."

I always did have trouble saying no to her for too long, especially when it came to innocent bouts of fun.  So on three, we held hands like we had so many times before and we threw our heads back and screamed as loud as we could.  Aimee went so far as to take a selfie of the two of us doing so.  Turned out, I didn't care that we startled a quite a few people around us and made some of them laugh.  The scream released a huge amount of emotional tension and before I knew what was going on, Aimee kissed me.  

I was surprised by the more or less impulsive act, but soon I had slipped my arms around her waist as I deepened the kiss.  I caressed the depths of her mouth with my tongue, greeting each minty contour of her mouth like an old friend.  I've never been one for too much public displays of affection, but in that moment, the whoops and camera shutters were little more than meaningless white noise.  Aimee's calloused hands--the hands of a girl who grew up on a farm--tangled themselves in my hair as she gently held me to her.  It felt like forever before we finally broke apart, panting hard.  

"That was..." began Aimee, her voice breathy and gorgeous as always.

"Way overdue," I finished.  

That was one kiss that I failed to share with Mom.  I don't think she saw anything about it online, otherwise she would have confronted me, but that kiss I shared with my ex-girlfriend was too special to share.  I share many things with Mom, but some things are too personal to share with her.  I never even told her that I lost my virginity.  Clark is the only one I ever told and that is the least of the secrets I've shared with Clark that I haven't shared with Mom.  All Clark was concerned about was making sure that I remained somebody that actually respected women rather than see them as objects.  

Women are the fairer sex, but they are still people.  I don't think I could turn into some sort of Casanova without feeling like I'm stabbing my mother--and Clark--in the back.  Mom and Clark have worked so hard towards helping me become somebody that respects women and maintains good manners towards them and while I feel that I've done more than a good job of it, I still wonder if I'll end up being like Dad.  Dad seldom offered me advice when it came to women in my life.  Sometimes I wonder if it's because he was always guilty about the fact that he was a bit of a womanizer for the longest time.  I think it was one of his fears--and most definitely Mom's--that I would end up being just like him in life:  a filthy rich playboy who, when he wasn't playing businessman or moonlighting as a bow-toting superhero, was seducing women into bed and then never calling them again.  

I am _not_ going to end up like my dad.  If and when I get married, it will be after I have courted the woman for at least a couple of years, maybe try to live with each other for a few months to figure out how we bridge our differences.  I don't want to end up just being in the tabloids where they'll exaggerate the divorce settlement and make us both out to be horrible people.  I don't want to end up disappointing my children by making them suffer the consequences of their parents splitting.  If they end up being anything like me, they'll find themselves trying very hard to hate me and what if they succeed?  What if they do end up hating me and I just end up being all alone in life?  

I shouldn't think too hard about it right now.  I just want to focus on graduating and moving on to Harvard.  I ended up narrowing myself down to two colleges:  Harvard and Stanford.  Both are incredible universities and both have offered me outrageous promises of a great learning and living experience, but ultimately I chose Harvard.  Last I checked, the acceptance rate is slightly higher at Harvard than it is at Stanford, but really, I think I could use some time away from California.  I think it will do me good to put that distance between me and my home for awhile as I think it will help with the healing process.  

Moving on from that, Prom was last night.  I didn't go.  I had a wonderful experience at my Spring Formal when I kissed Aimee and our relationship turned romantic, but still after what happened with the first dance I ever went to went down, I just didn't want to set myself up for another disaster.  Plus, high school dances are overrated and I have been to enough of them to know that they can be a lot more vulgar and less exciting than what you might see in movies _Footloose_ and  _She's All That._  

Strangely enough, while I didn't go to prom, it would seem that prom came to me.  I had put Thea to sleep with a children's book and Mom and I were just going to settle down and share popcorn as we watched reruns of our favorite TV shows when there came a knock at the door.  Mom answered it and I could not believe my eyes.  

Dark, glittery hair tied back in a chignon bun with those loose sideswipe bangs that obscured her right eye somewhat in that way that I always loved, hazel-brown eyes somewhat intensified by her makeup, lips normally devoid of anything other than lip balm that were shiny with a small amount of red lipstick.  Perhaps the most beautiful woman ever to walk into my life who was as bad at noticing her own beauty as Clark Kent is at noticing his and she was wearing a somewhat figure-hugging black and grey dress with a dipping neckline that contrasted with her pale skin so well that almost made it too beautiful to touch.  She omitted her half-rim reading glasses and a tiara sat atop her head.

Aimee, the prom queen, showed up at my door.  I felt so under-dressed in my burgundy V-neck T-shirt and black jeans, but Aimee didn't seem to care.  Mom stepped out to give us some privacy and as I invited her in, she told me that she knew I didn't want to go to the dance, but there was only one guy in the world that she wanted to dance with and he wasn't there.  She punctuated that little admonishment with a playful punch to my shoulder.  I guess it's not every day that the prom queen just unexpectedly shows up at your door.  I couldn't help but indulge her.    

I didn't have a corsage to give her, but I took a white tulip from a vase and Aimee giggled as I tucked it in her ear.  I then offered my hand with one of my warmest smiles.  Aimee returned the smile with a toothy grin of her own and I led her to the ballroom and asked if she had her iPod with her.  She had her phone which would do and I hooked it up to the sound system that my family always used in the absence of a band.  

I selected an older song that we both enjoyed.  It was "The Only Exception" by Paramore.  I felt so awkward wearing Converses as she wore open-toed black Prada high heels, but it seemed that she couldn't care less as we began to dance.  Oh, God how I missed dancing with Aimee.  As we engaged in a simply waltz, I just couldn't stop gazing into her eyes.  I guess I've been unfairly luckier in terms of relationships than Mom was when she was my age, but I've tried to be as humble about it as possible.  I never flaunted my relationship with Aimee to anyone and as excited as I always was to be in a relationship with her, I never bragged about it either.  I guess I should thank Clark Kent for helping me be a more humble person.  Mom certainly hasn't been the humblest of people.  She was always proud of being a vital member of the Justice League, helping Clark hone his role as a hero, helping Dad overcome his women-and-wine issues more than once prior to their marriage. 

Eventually, as the song progressed, my waltz with Aimee faded into simple swaying as she rested her head against my chest.  It just felt so right.  I felt safe.  In that very moment, I felt happy in such a way that I forgot was possible.  Aimee lifted her head from my chest and fixed her gaze on me again.  I watched as her eyes fluttered shut as she raised her head a little.  As her lips parted, I couldn't help myself as I closed the distance.  As if on cue, the song reached it's bridge as our lips connected.  Kissing Aimee Marek is a beauty that I hadn't realized I've been longing for a long time.  I couldn't almost say that it's an addiction that in that moment, I had suddenly had an unsuccessful withdrawal from.  

But seriously, what is with Sullivans and farmers?  Mom fell hard for an awkward farmboy growing up and I fell for a farmgirl who happened to come from the same town Clark.  I wouldn't call her awkward so much as I would call her feisty and adventurous and caring and, yes, unbelievably beautiful, but still it's kind of poetic.  And she always has been very self-deprecating especially when it came to her beauty.  Why is that beautiful people sometimes are the worst at realizing that they are beautiful?  Sure, somebody doesn't have to be  _physically_ beautiful in order to be a beautiful person, but people like Clark Kent and Aimee Marek just take it to the extreme.  Clark doesn't go around saying he's not handsome when someone like Mom compliments him, but his obliviousness is legendary.

Eventually, Aimee and I parted from each other.  Right now I kind of wish that we had taken it a lot further.  It would have been nice if I had woken up this morning with Aimee in my arms.  Or at least beside me where I could drink in the sight of her as the morning sun reflected off her pale skin.  But, maybe the way we parted that evening was still a good one.  

"Does this mean we're in a relationship again?" she breathed.

I smiled and gave the words that she had spoken to me so long ago on the first day we met.  "Ask me again tomorrow, Aimee."  

I'm not sure what her plans are for college, but it might be difficult for us if we end up at different places.  Maybe we could make a long distance relationship work.  Maybe we will part on good terms and reconnect someday.  But right now, I just want to enjoy her until it's time to leave.  


	36. Chapter Thirty-Six

June 2031

 

Dear Diary,

 

Turns out I wasn't the only one who got lucky during my prom night. Clark, who had brought Aimee to my door, did a bit of a prom do-over with Mom. I thought it was very sweet of him considering he left her during their spring formal and didn't even share a dance with her at their prom. He even played a song that she really enjoyed way back when. "Perfect Memory" by Remy Zero. Very smooth of you, Clark. 

Mom sure was surprised to find out I had bought the Kent farm back for Clark.  It was back in February and I bought it from the previous owners without telling Clark first.  That took a lot of charm and sweet talk.  Clark was over the moon that I had bought it back for him and I even promised to pay for all of its renovations and upkeep.  At least as long as he never sells it again.  

That yellow house should not have belonged to anyone other than Clark in the first place.  I get that after Martha died that he couldn't live there anymore, but he didn't have to sell it.

At least Clark promised he'd never sell it again.  In fact, he expanded it in preparation for a family.  Well, when multiple generations of a family inherit a house, there's bound to be a few changes.

The best part of Mom's date with Clark is that he did not leave her at all. Nothing went wrong and they even kissed! Why am I so happy about my mother and godfather being in a relationship? Why is it that, try as hard as I might, I can't seem to stay feeling betrayed that it's taken less than a year for Mom to get over Dad's death? She didn't love him anymore at the time of his death, as I found out the hard way, but still is it wrong that I sometimes wish that she was still in a bit of a mourning period? I don't like seeing her depressed, but Oliver Queen was still my dad. He might not have been the greatest all the time, but I still loved him.

Maybe the reason why I feel so happy about Mom's relationship with Clark is because of how happy I see them whenever they are together. Even before Dad died, even before I started seeing my parents drift apart, Mom and Clark could always make each other smile, laugh, and just be comfortable around each other. I feel like a broken record for saying that, but it's true. At least Mom and I both had a great prom. Our original plan might have involved popcorn and Netflix, but quite unexpectedly we ended up with something a whole lot better.

The last day of school wasn't too memorable. The day ended like most other days at school. No chaos--other than that of students trying to leave the building, but that's normal--no paper thrown everywhere, no collective chorus of cheers from the seniors...it was just the end of school. Not to say that there weren't celebrations to be had, but none of it really happened at school. I asked Mom if she remembered what she thought on her last day of school and she told me that it sucked. Not just because some high school-obsessed classmate of hers with a fear of moving on tried to trap her in a permanent high school setting, but also because it was scary. High school had plenty of ups and downs for her, but as much as she wanted high school to be over, by the time it  _was_ over all she felt was fear.  She didn't know what lied ahead.  All she saw was a big giant question mark looming in front of her.

At least she was willing to see what was beyond that giant question mark.  Some things turns out the way she would have liked.  She started an internship at the Daily Planet, although as time wore on, that didn't turn out the way she hoped.  Learning Clark's secret matured Mom a bit and she became more careful about what stories she went after.  Sadly, her journalism career suffered because of it and Aunt Lois quickly overshadowed her.  The worst part came was when Lex Luthor fired her and she just lost who she was for awhile.  

She was still dedicated to helping people and she channeled some of that energy into the Isis Foundation, but still it's like she lost her rudder in life.  As a result, she was just lost and grabbing at whatever was in front of her from the Isis Foundation, to Watchtower, to erasing all traces of her existence and working with the Suicide Squad.  

What were you Mom?

Eventually, she managed to return to a bit of who she was before when she took a job at the Star City Register, but still she wasn't at home.  Why did it take Mom so many years to find where she belonged?  She's starting a job at the Daily Planet again soon, so that has to be an upside in her life.

In fact, some of that inspired my graduation speech.  Yes, I was valedictorian.  Not that I don't give myself a pat on the back for working so hard, but it just feels like another pathetic label.  I feel like I'm being put on a pedestal and letting the school show me off as being better than all of my classmates.  I'm not.  Just because I got good grades doesn't make me any better than them.  

At the ceremony, on that cloudy day out on the football field, these were my words:

_I really don't have much to say, but I will say I think that this--the valedictorian offering a speech is a stupid and outdated tradition.  I may have gotten good grades, but I am no more special than any of you and this is just feels like a reason for this school to make it look like I am better than any of you.  I am not.  Like all of you, there were times when I struggled.  There were times when I had fond daydreams of tossing my homework behind my head and occupying my time with more exciting things.  There were times when I felt that I wasn't going to get anywhere in life.  'Valedictorian' is just another label along with 'jock', 'priss', 'loser', 'outsider'..._

_I was somebody who befriended a farmgirl, a nerd, a football player and many others.  If anything, life for me was more_ Breakfast Club _than it was_ High School Musical _or_ Mean Girls _where I could point to a table in the cafeteria and put a name to the cliques.  Some of us might have complained about not being a part of a clique, or we might have felt that no one really ever understood us, and some of us might even have ended up being a little to sycophantic._

_But you know what, high school is over.  Whatever labels that we've might have been branded with or that we gave ourselves are gone now.  We've been given a clean slate.  It's scary not knowing what lies beyond that big question mark that is our future.  The friends we've made, the heartaches we've suffered, the life-changing events that might have happened...it can all be history now.  Some of us might end up succeeding in life, some of us might not, but we'll never know if we don't embrace that large question mark.  I don't know about all of you, but I'm definitely willing to make the most of it._

_Congratulations, class of 2031_

Nice, brief and straightforward.  The school board didn't seem to like it so much and Bruce Wayne, who had attended my graduation, had to sweet talk them into giving it to me.  Even so, I ditched the ceremony before they started handing out the diplomas anyway.  

I found myself sitting on one of the steps leading to the front of the school.  It was a special spot.  It was a corner next to the slope where I could prop my arm on it when trying to make myself more comfortable.  It was where I would sit whenever Dad offered to pick me up from school.  He didn't always come when he said he would.  Sometimes he was fifteen minutes to an hour late, but he always came.  Usually if he was late, he came with compensation often in the form of ice cream.  Mom, Clark, Aunt Lois, and Bruce eventually found me just as I began to cry.  

I explained my dilemma to no one in particular and Mom pulled me into her arms.  At this point in time, I didn't care if Mom and Dad were still married.  All through the amount of the ceremony that I stayed for, I kept looking up at the bleachers.  I found Mom in her burgundy suit-dress quite easily, but I unconsciously hoped that Dad would show up.  Of course, I knew he wouldn't, couldn't, but graduating and your dad not being there?  It's like all those times when you have accomplished something great and you feel that pang of not everyone who should be there not be there.  More than once, I found myself mentally trying to imagine him into existence.  If I thought very hard about it, Dad would just appear beside Mom or the next late-comer that walked onto the bleachers would be him...only to have reality hit me like a bucket of ice water.  Dad wasn't going to show up at my graduation.  Nor my college graduation.  If and when I get married.  When I introduce everyone I care about to my first child.  

Dad's just gone.  A more cynical part of me wondered if he would have showed up at my graduation even if he was still alive.  

Clark consoled me with some very uplifting words.  He didn't know if Dad would have showed up at my graduation or not.  We all agreed that it might have taken him awhile to get over me not wanting to continue life as a vigilante.  Clark looked me in the eye and he told me that he, for one, was very proud of me.  He always had been.  And he promised that whatever I end up doing in life that he would be here for me.  

I never voiced this to anyone, but this was one of those moments where I found myself wishing that Clark was my dad.  He's absolutely right.  He  _has_ always been here for me and has always been here when I needed him.  I have no doubt that when he does have children of his own, he'll be a great father.  If he's anything to them how he is to me, he'll definitely be worth bragging about.  

Eventually, Lois--who is currently pregnant with Bruce Wayne's child--piped up and asked me if I was up for fondue.  I never actually told anyone what I wanted to do for my graduation dinner, but a fondue restaurant was an excellent choice.  

At that restaurant, where I was joined with my friends, we shared happy memories from high school.  I think everybody was involved in some sinister plot to ease my pain of Dad not being her, because many of those memories were about me.  Whatever it was, I succumbed and I ended up smiling most of the evening.  If the memories weren't enough to put a smile on my face, Aimee told me that she had been accepted into Harvard law school.  I wouldn't have dropped my plans to go to Harvard if she ended up somewhere else, but still it really made my heart smile that we didn't have to part ways.

This summer has been great so far.  Aimee is my girlfriend again and Mom and Clark are in a happy, stable place.  Also, I've heard Clark talking about adopting Thea.  I wouldn't mind that in the slightest.  Maybe Mom and Clark haven't admitted it to themselves yet, but we're all practically family now.  

It's truly wonderful having at least something that feels like a whole family again.  

Now I just want to enjoy this summer as much as I can.  College is going to be an interesting transition.  I'm leaving behind my home (which right now is Mom's apartment in Metropolis.)  I am leaving behind the family that has been my safe haven all my life.  But, then again, there always comes a point in time where I need to leave in order to continue to grow.  

Whatever happens, I'll try to be prepared for it when it's time to leave. 


	37. Chapter Thirty-Seven

September 2031

 

Dear Diary,

 

Summer was a blur.  A blissful, fun-filled blur.  I took Aimee for a Norwegian cruise since she and I had never been and once or twice we had talked about going there sometime.  Norway is a beautiful country and I felt bad since we were only there for a couple of weeks.  The fjords were a spectacular sight and the weather, I can't say I have ever experienced a subarctic climate, but I was surprised by how warm it was at times.  Not very humid like in the middle of Kansas or on the Californian coast, but still the weather at times felt like a warm day in late autumn.  

I don't know about Aimee, but I sure felt like an ignorant tourist as I could barely speak enough Norwegian to carry on a conversation.  Thanks to Dad, and my own involvement with the Russian mob, I can speak fluent Russian.  I also took French in high school, but I can barely speak Norwegian.  Either way, we had a great time and I think I even made a few new friends.  I felt bad about leaving them behind in Norway.  Of course, I have the money to travel back and forth between seeing the people I care about, or that I am at least acquainted with, but I just started school at Harvard.  

Coming to Harvard was interesting.  Plenty of people knew who I was and it was one of those times where, before I can properly introduce myself, people would introduce themselves without ever asking for my name.  I don't know, but sometimes I feel like there's just something impolite about not giving someone a chance to introduce themselves even if you already know their name.  Like when a famous movie star meets someone new for the first time and in one form or another that person will say "I already know who you are."  

If movie stars, or other celebrities who actually have a good reason to be famous, are anything like me, they might be thinking, "So you know my name.  What's yours."  Not that people are bad for their names not being well-known, but it gets really overwhelming when everybody seems to know your name.  They are embarrassing themselves trying to decide whether to call you Mr. So-and-so, or address you by your first name, while all you want to do is properly introduce yourself to people and get to know them.  

It can be as lonely as when _nobody_ knows who you are or what your name is.  Actually, it's almost exactly the same.  They know your name and by what they read on Wikipedia and the tabloids, but they have no idea who you are.  I'm a celebutante and really the only thing that the public is aware that  _I_ did was save a young woman from a fire.  The public doesn't need to know that the Purple Arrow and Jonathan Sullivan-Queen are one and the same.  

I don't know if I'll ever go back into moonlighting as a vigilante or hero, but I'm just not ready for that right now.  

Some people here at Harvard have asked me why I hyphenate my parents' last names.  They ask me why I don't just introduce myself as "Jonathan Queen."  Mom hyphenated for the longest time and I was always proud to be a Sullivan as much as I am a Queen.  For me, hyphenating, even though it is really unnecessary, it makes me feel closer to that part of my heritage.  Although, I tend to ignore my middle name, Gabriel due to Grandpa Gabe being mostly absent in my life.  Cynically, I wonder if he is ashamed of my existence.  

There I go again complaining about existing.  Shame on me.  Maybe he isn't disappointed that I exist.  He always sent me birthday and Christmas cards with a little bit of cash or a modest present attached to them sometimes.  Maybe he was disappointed in Mom's relationship with Dad.  I mean, what father, no matter how close or distant, wouldn't be disappointed in his child marrying someone during a drunken encounter?  That being said, I've wondered lately if Grandpa Gabe was grateful to Clark for talking them into having a proper ceremony.  Maybe or maybe not, but Grandpa wasn't in any of the wedding photos.  

Sometimes I wonder if Mom ever scolded him for being so absent in my life.  

I wouldn't mind having a close grandparent in my life.  Martha Kent acted as a bit of a grandmother to me, but as great of a woman as she was, she was still a surrogate grandmother.  Much the same way Clark at times was a father figure to me.  

Speaking of Clark, he has been great to me and my family this past summer.  He and Mom have been acting like a real couple and while I try not to think about their sex life as much as possible, I have been seeing more actual interaction between them.  Intimate moments without that clear sign that one or both of them is just itching to tear each other's clothes off.  

I'm not exactly a saint in that department.  Aimee and I have made love a few times this summer.  Not to sound like a cliche romance, but one of those times was at a secluded beach with no one else around for at least a few miles.  

She's about as busy as I am studying law and so we've barely gotten to hang out the last few weeks.

Although, Mom visited me this past weekend.  It really shouldn't have been, but it turned into a very awkward encounter.  Mom looks like she is twenty-five years old still and I am turning nineteen in a couple of months and so when I met her on campus, a couple of people asked if she was my girlfriend.  I guess they got that signal from me picking up my mother and swinging her around a few times and exchanging kisses on the cheeks, but still the same thought that I felt must have crossed Mom's mind.  The look we shared, we might as well have just tasted something really awful or accidentally walked in on Grandpa Gabe caught between a woman's legs.

I spoke up first and introduced Mom--even though it felt really bad in my mouth--as my older sister visiting from Metropolis.  I think they were smart enough to see the resemblance.  Not that I am not proud of who my mother is, but at least in this town, Mom and I agreed that it was safer for people to know Chloe Queen as my sister and not my mother lest the wrong people start asking questions.  

Given how she seems to have stopped aging, that makes me wonder will I be like that?  Will I look twenty-five when I am forty or fifty?  I can't heal others the way Mom can, but lately I've deduced that I do in fact have an accelerated healing factor as she does.  The worst wound I had ever gotten that Mom didn't get to use her healing power on was a broken arm and it only lasted a few hours.  

All in all, these last few months haven't been to hard for me.  The physical distance between me and the Queen mansion seems to be helping some, but I think that eventually, if I were to truly get closure, I'll have to visit it again sometime.  I haven't sold it.  Every time I stop to consider selling it to the highest bidder, or to give up for a charity organization, something always stops me.  Maybe I won't sell it.  Maybe someday, I'll be able to fill it with my own memories, my own family without the shadows of the past coming back to hurt me.

In terms of studies, I am taking a few right now.  I'm studying psychology, Jungian archetypes, and business, as well as Romantic literature.

Maybe I didn't want to at first because of some of the resentment I had towards Dad, but for all my reluctance to go into business, I would feel a lot worse if Queen Industries was spearheaded by somebody else.  Dad never said I couldn't tweak things to my liking.  Among other things, I have given thought to renaming the company. 

Queen Industries will become Queen Consolidated. Then again, I might end up settling for a different name somewhere down the line.  

It's a thought, but right now, I have no time to be worried about that stuff.  I have a mountain of homework to do.  I feel that my entries are going to become more sporadic, but I think I can sneak in a couple more before I fully commit to my college studies.   

 


	38. Chapter Thirty-Eight

November 2031

 

My nineteenth birthday was last week.  I shared a small celebration with Aimee and some of the friends we've made in college so far and while I haven't been to a number of unsupervised parties in my life, I must say that college students really know how to throw a party.  Although, my friends understood my not wanting to make a large spectacle, but between Harvard and MIT people really know how to throw a party.  My friends failed to get me to drink beer.  Not because I have reservations about drinking once in awhile, such as at social functions, but simply because I don't like the taste of beer. 

I did beat everybody at pool and darts though.  Not to brag, but as Dad grew older, I think I started becoming a lot better than him when it came to hitting what I aim for.  As always for me, a few college girls seem to ignore the fact that I am exclusively involved with Aimee Marek.  Once or twice I have found a girl in my dorm room.  I chose not to join any fraternity.  The pledging, the hazing, all that crap...it's ridiculous.  A few times, I actually thwarted a few hazing sessions.  Either through sabotaging them with a few arrows or turning the jokes on the frat boys themselves (and sometimes the sorority girls, but while I'm as harsh with them, I mostly just limit what I do to them to just blackmail), I try not to let people get away with subjecting freshman to humiliation.  

I can go about college without feeling like I have to be part of some fraternity.  Living in one of those frat houses might be nice, but in the ones that I have seen so far, they are not too hospitable.  Why live somewhere where the stench of beer is always there and knowing that every weekend at least one of the frat boys is having sex in the other room?

Fraternities and sororities are extremely overrated. 

I did have a birthday celebration with my family.  Since the Thanksgiving holidays the following week, I came home to a fancy dinner Clark cooked up for me as well as a very delicious cake.  Thea managed to say the words "Happy Birthday" and it really made my heart smile.  Tess was there also and, since I haven't been able to keep in touch with her too much lately, it was great to see one of my best friends again.  

I must say that that whole time, the absence of Dad went by completely unnoticed.  

All in all, this has probably been the happiest birthday celebration I've had in a few years.

My birthday celebration wasn't all that happened this Thanksgiving break.  

A couple of weeks ago, before my birthday, Mom visited me at Harvard.  She wished she could have stayed for my birthday, but she couldn't.  In fact, the reason why she was in town in the first place was because she was in Boston on a business trip and she wanted to meet me for dinner while still in town.  I don't think it was very subtle of her but throughout dinner, she had her chin propped on her hand.  I saw her engagement ring.  A three-karat sapphire engagement ring.  It was no Harry Winston, but it was gorgeous.  

Clark had proposed to my mother!  A long time ago, I would have been shocked or even angered by it, but I was just happy for her.  I see the way they are together and so who am I to prevent them from tying the knot?  

Mom wanted me to minister the wedding.  I still feel very weird about this, but I was ordained online.  I'm no priest, so I figured that I could say a few things without sounding like I was reciting the words usually spoken by a priest.  Among other things, I decided to share the words spoken in the letter Mom wrote to Clark all those years ago.  

I helped Mom pick out her wedding dress.  It's a strapless, A-line Vera Wang gown and she looks very beautiful in it.  

I guess in the words of Mom's letter, Clark finally flew back to her.  She's the one he loves today and he's done nothing but prove to me that all he wants to do in this life is love and cherish her.  I certainly don't mind calling Clark my stepfather.  He's also shown all my life that he actually cares about me and now Thea. 

I definitely hope that it was all worth the wait for the two of them.  

Maybe someday, I'll have my own similar happy ending.  Or beginning, perhaps.  

I've come a long way from being that boy that started writing in journals.  At that time, I was just a silly boy who, when I think about it, was just copying his parents by learning archery and hacking skills.  I like to think that as time wore on, I have been morphing into my own person and I hope to continue to do so.  Life has certainly dealt me a few tragedies in my life and I'll always wish that Dad was still here, but I've also gained quite a bit as well.  I don't know where I'd be if it wasn't for my mother, my godfather, or even my friends like Aimee and Tess.  

Thank you for being here for me these past four or five years.  

Now if you'll excuse this one last time, my mother's escort and minister can't be late for the wedding.  

College might be bringing my entries to an end, but I'd like to think that my life is just beginning.

Goodbye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will probably remain my longest story for quite some time. Thanks to everyone who has stuck with this story from the very beginning or close to. I hope you all had as much fun reading this as I did building a character who we only go to see two or three minutes of. 
> 
> But don't worry. There are still stories involving Chloe's son to come. There will be an epilogue to one of my other stories that will also serve as a bit of a follow-up to this story.


End file.
